


The Quiet Life

by Desceeee



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (Though it's all in Flowey's head.), And Flowey's not in a pot, But it's slice of life with a focus on Flowey, Consistent Tone? What's that?, Frisk outmoms Toriel, Gender-Neutral Frisk, Hints of Soriel, It's like floweypot except they're not on the surface, Minor suicidal ideation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, So not like floweypot at all, Some Humor, Some angst, Tsundere Flowey, a little fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2018-09-21 00:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 52,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9523865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desceeee/pseuds/Desceeee
Summary: With bated breath, Flowey waits for the weird new fallen human to confront Toriel and engage with the monsters of the Underground.And then they don’t.





	1. Pie and Prejudice

Toriel would never allow him into the house, but she didn’t have to know he was there. He knew all the shortcuts and all the hiding spots in the Underground. If he wanted to be someplace, he’d be there. Nothing could stop him.

Well, that wasn’t always true. There was _one_ person who had a knack for creating blind spots, just beyond his reach. One person who, somehow, could always see him coming.

But he wasn’t here right now. He may have been too close to here for Flowey’s comfort. But he wasn’t here. And he wasn’t going to be let here, either. No matter how much he could charm Toriel with his stupid, terrible jokes.

Either way, right now, his attention was focused on someone far more interesting. If they weren’t, he wouldn’t have bothered following them into this house.

A human was sleeping in the bed that used to belong to him, once upon a time. He had to remind himself that by now, he gotten over this idea. That he wasn’t bitter anymore. It just proved what he already knew.

He tried to fight off his thoughts by focusing on their sleeping form. Even in the dimness on the room, he could see that their skin looked soft and smooth, and was darker than the skin of just about any other human he’d ever seen before — not that he’d seen many humans before, of course. They were still wearing the striped sweater they fell with, even though it was probably all sweaty and filthy right now, and would probably smell really bad if he came any closer. He didn’t know how Toriel tolerated that. They had a delicate-looking face, framed by soft-looking, brown locks-

Flowey then realised why he felt almost mesmerised by their appearance: they looked like Chara.

He felt his face scrunch up. No. This human was _nothing_ like Chara. They weren’t brave or smart or strong like Chara was. Quite the contrary: they kept refusing to fight when they had the chance. There was nothing he wanted more than to see that goodie-two-shoes act fall apart like the charade it is, but so far, he found himself disappointed.

Not to mention, they were not as pretty as Chara, either. With Chara, he could stare at them for hours on end. Every time they touched him, when he felt their smooth, warm human skin brush against his fur, he felt all tingly. Whenever they smiled at him, he felt his cheeks burning.

But this human’s cheeks weren’t as round or as rosy as Chara’s. Their eyes were not as big. Their hair was naturally far messier, even when it wasn’t splayed out across the pillow. This human could never hold a candle to Chara. They didn’t even deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as Chara! The very act of comparing this human to Chara was akin to spitting on Chara’s memory, just another one of the many ways in which he wronged them.

Flowey took a moment to still his breathing, trying to calm himself down.

The fact that they were sleeping meant that they were vulnerable. He could kill them now, and they wouldn’t be able to defend themself. Toriel wouldn’t protect them, either: why would she? Her house was a _safe_ place, nothing could threaten her _precious child_ here.

But... they would just load a SAVE if they died here, wouldn’t they? It would be a waste of time.

Flowey snapped out of his thoughts when he saw the human stir, and whipped into the ground when he saw them sit up.

He popped out of the ground under the bed, just in time to see the human’s feet touch the ground.

He kept watching as the human kneeled down and picked up the pie.

What a parasite, willing to take what was given to them without offering anything in return. Using Toriel’s house as a convenient place to rest and Toriel herself to provide them with resources, while not willing to give Toriel what _she_ wanted.

They really were no better than _he_ was.

He could barely hold himself from squealing with giddiness.

Here comes the good part. The part where they leave the Ruins. The part where Toriel would have to answer for her failings as a mother and as a person. The part where this human’s oh-so pure and noble act would fall apart.

He couldn’t wait.

 

* * *

 

The human walked with their head held up high and a small _smile_ on their face as they approached Toriel.

Clearly, this human must have been just as empty as he was. How else would they be able to approach such an uncomfortable situation with such confidence?

Toriel’s face brightened up as the human approached her. How ignorant.

“Oh, hello! Did you want to hear about the book I am reading?” Pulling the book to the side, Toriel patted on her lap with one paw for a moment before realising what she was doing, “It is called _’72 Uses for Snails.’_ How about it?”

The human beamed, “Yeah!” They climbed on the chair and sat on her lap. Flowey noticed how Toriel’s eyes widened and her posture stiffened for a brief moment, before she relaxed again. She laid an arm around the human and adjusted them so that they could lean against her chest. Then, she began reading.

The very thought of listening filled Flowey with boredom. He read this book already, and that was before he even became a flower. As a flower, having absolutely nothing better to do, he actually memorised it.

Instead, he focused his sights on the human.

The human’s head sank into Toriel’s chest. Although their eyes were fixed onto the book, they seemed even more relaxed than they were while they slept.

That’s not to say that they were completely passive. Occasionally, the human would turn to Toriel and ask questions about what they just read, their eyes shining with curiosity. Flowey couldn’t stand it. This was boring. This was boring even before _everything_ became boring. Why would a human ever find this interesting?

More worrying, though, was the fact that the human barely seemed to want to move, let alone confront Toriel for their freedom. How long was he going to have to wait to get to the good part?!

Not to mention, this whole time, Toriel’s hand was rubbing the human’s head. Just like she used to do with him when he was little.

He bitterly recalled the fireball she threw at him only a few hours ago. If anyone here was a miserable creature, it was her.

He felt his face grow hot and his mouth grow bitter and dry. His lower eyelid felt heavier. He rubbed his face against the ground.

When Toriel had finally finished reading, she closed the book.

“Well, my child, did you like it?”

The human grinned and nodded.

“Splendid! I have plenty more just like it.” Toriel patted the human’s shoulder. “You are a curious child, are you not? I have prepared a curriculum for you, starting tomorrow. I hope it would quench your curiosity.”

The child’s smile softened, becoming more relaxed than joyful.

“I can’t wait.”

Wait, what?

He ran the human’s voice through his head over and over, combing their face for any clues they might have spoken sarcastically.

But he couldn’t find any clues. The human was completely sincere. They weren’t going to leave any time soon.

Flowey’s face felt even hotter that before. The bile rose in his throat. His eyes were beginning to grow wet again.

Fine then. He didn’t care if this human was some _baby_ who wanted to cling to _mommy_ ’s apron. He didn’t care if Toriel wanted to play happy family with some human she probably doesn’t even really care about.

He didn’t care at all. This was stupid. _She_ was stupid. _They_ were stupid.

He didn’t care!

He sank into the ground.

 

* * *

 

The place where Chara was buried was one of the few places in the Underground where the sun shone. From aside in the shadows, you could see the golden rays from above, reflecting in specks of dust which drifted downwards. When the sun was right above, the flowerbed on Chara’s grave glowed so brightly it was as though it, too, was shining. But even when the sun was not visible, this place had no rival in the entire Underground, as during the course of the day the skies changed colour between the various hues of blue. And when the skies were completely dark, you could see little white pinpricks dusting the black, called ‘stars’. It was probably only due to Toriel’s efforts that this place wasn’t constantly populated by monsters trying to catch a glimpse of what they can never have again.

It was easily Flowey’s favourite place in the entire Underground.

Back before he was Flowey, he used to listen, enraptured, as the adults around him reminisced on that which was stolen from them. According to them, on the surface, there were areas in which there were no walls or ceilings. Areas where you could see the sky’s edges, which were called ‘horizons’. Areas where you could see the sun’s entire journey from horizon to horizon. According to them, the best parts of experiencing days on the surface were whenever the sun met the horizons, when it bathed everything around it with a plethora of brilliant shades of orange, yellow, and pink.

Back then, he loved this place for all its beauty and wonder, because he had not yet lost his ability to appreciate those. Now, however, as a side effect of losing his SOUL, he was no longer touched by them. But honestly, maybe he was an idiot to like these things to begin with. What is the point of beauty, anyways? What is so great about standing around, just _staring_ at something? It’s boring, and pointless, and it makes you look stupid. Wonder, too, is overrated: it always fades as soon as it comes. And there is no point trying to search new sources of wonder, either; this feeling weakens every time you feel it. He knew that better than anyone.

Pleasure is short lived, but suffering weighs on you eternal. There is no purpose to life, nor meaning. All of these things are just stupid lies that adults tell kids so that they would not realise what a sorry lot they have been dealt when they were brought into this world.

Life is nothing but an endless slog of searching for stuff to do, and then doing them until exhaustion.

However, despite losing its previous perks, Chara’s grave was still Flowey’s favourite place in the Underground. The sunshine felt nice on him, and hanging about this place was the closest he was ever going to get to Chara again.

In past timelines, he used to spend hours on end diving in their grave, trying to see if there was anything left of them. Trying everything he could to bring them back.

He never gave up on them. Even in this timeline, he tried calling for them, he really did.

But his efforts were all in vain. They were gone. And he only had himself to blame for that. He had no right to even mourn them.

To his credit, even if he was disturbing their grave, he never _left_ it disturbed. He would always reload to restore it to its former state. Leaving the flowerbed just as spotless as _they_ would have liked it to be.

However, the same could not be said of everyone who had been to this grave. For now there was a large patch of trampled flowers in the flowerbed.

He felt his face burn again.

Stupid new human.

Why did they do that? Why would _anyone_ do that? Choose to climb up this mountain and then just _stay_ here? Give up everything the surface has to offer in favour of this godforsaken cave? Don’t they know that the monsters down here are willing to _kill_ to be given that which they gave up? Don’t they know that Chara-

He couldn’t finish that thought.

This human was nothing but a privileged, stupid brat!

It was all going to get even more unbearable for him now, too. He lost his freedom, his power to do with the Underground as he wished, all because of them.

And to think that at first, he thought that their fall here would make things _more_ interesting.

Stupid.

They probably did it _specifically_ to spite him. They probably stayed with Toriel for that reason, too. Acting so pure and innocent and happy. Rubbing it in his face that he’d never-

He barely even realised when his eyes started watering again. He only noticed it when his cheeks became wet. He rubbed his face in the ground.

Stupid human. Even when they weren’t here, they kept making him get all worked up.

“Heya.“

A voice broke his train of thought. He turned around to glare at the human standing in the shadows, smiling.

“What,” he growled, “do you want?”

The human shrugged. “I couldn’t finish all the pie Toriel made. I thought you might want some.” True to their words, they were holding a plate in their hands.

They really were rubbing it in his face, now.

“I don’t. It’s probably covered in your saliva, anyways.”

“Don’t worry, this is a clean slice. I never ate from it. I brought you your own eating utensils, too!” The human beamed and sat on their knees in front of Flowey, setting the plate in their lap, and placing a dessert fork on the plate, right next to the pie, handle pointing towards him.

Flowey glared at them with everything he could muster. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you.”

The human paused for a moment. Then, their eyes widened. They frowned.

“Oh, right. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking-”

“Yeah, thinking isn’t your strong suit.”

He took a moment to appreciate his own clever comeback. It almost cheered him up.

The human, however, seemed unfazed. They picked up the fork, cut a small piece of the pie and lifted it up, holding it out to him.

“Here.”

He recoiled, extending his stem away from them. “No.”

The human chuckled. “Should I make airplane noises?”

“Shut up! What are you, my mom?”

 “Well, you sure seem like you need one.”

Flowey furrowed his brows. “Are you making fun of me?!”

“No! Well, maybe a little. Sorry.” The look in their eyes softened for a brief moment, then, they grinned “Won’t you take this pie as an apology?”

“Ha! As if I would ever accept your- Hey!” the human thrust the fork at him, he recoiled even further back. “You could have stabbed me!”

“Oh.” The human set the fork down, and looked at him apologetically. “Sorry, again. I probably should have brought a spoon, instead.”

“Who the hell eats pie with a spoon?!”

The human scratched their head. “Is it some kind of etiquette faux-pas? I mean, how else are you supposed to scoop up the gooey bits...” they trailed off, their eyes fixed on him. Their confused face melted into a frown.

The both of them sat there for a long, awkward moment before the human found it within themself to speak again.

“Right. I’m sorry for trying to force you to eat, and for, umm... being insensitive in general.” The human sighed. “This... hadn’t gone well, has it...”

“What are you doing?”

“Huh?”

“Why are you doing this? Trying to befriend me. Pretending to care.”

“You seemed lonely.”

He couldn’t believe it. The human was _pitying_ him?!

“You idiot,” he growled, “you think you’re _helping_ me? You’re a pest.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” The human tilted their head.

“You stole my ability to SAVE and LOAD.” He smirked. “That’s right! _I_ used to have this power before you did. But I lost it. All because of YOU!”

The human did not seem to be as shocked or as horrified as he hoped they’d be. “Sorry, I guess. I don’t really think I can help it, though. Hey, just to make it up to you, I don’t mind saving or loading for you, if you have a good reas-”

“But I don’t _want_ you to save or load for me! I just want you to do something _interesting_ with it rather than play house with that old hag all the time!”

“Something interesting such as..?”

“Leaving the Ruins, and braving the rest of the Underground. Fighting for your freedom.” His mouth grew into a wide, jagged smile, and his eyes into black pools with tiny white irises “Killing everyone that stands in your path.”

“Oh. Sorry. Not really planning to do any of that.”

“And that’s the problem! This is boring! _You’re_ boring! And you’re forcing your _boringness_ on me because you robbed me of my freedom! You keep talking about wanting to help me, and yet you wouldn’t do anything interesting for me!”

The human fell silent, their eyes lost.

This is it. The part where the human finally loses their ‘perfect’ goody two-shoes demeanour to frustration. The part where they snap and tell him what a spoilt, entitled brat he is and declare their hatred for him. The part where they stomp off, taking their pie with them, and more importantly, leaving him alone.

“Huh. I guess I can understand that.” Their eyes softened, they smiled at him again. “It _is_ pretty frustrating to look forwards to something and be disappointed. To lose something valuable and get nothing in return. I can’t fault you for being angry.”

He couldn’t believe it. Were they serious?! Their sympathetic act only made his face burn more.

It was probably just that, an act. Their sympathetic response was engineered solely to rub their _stupid_ sense of _moral superiority_ in his face.

He could use it to his advantage, though.

“So, _are_ you going to leave the Ruins now?”

“Nope.”

“Arghhh!” He slammed his stigma on the ground. “You’re insufferable.”

“Haha, I guess so.”

He huffed, feeling his face burning more than ever before.

“Seriously, what is _wrong_ with you?! You climb up this mountain no one has ever returned from, and then you just _stay_ here? Why would you do that?!”

“Well, it just that...“ The human’s eyes strayed to the side, their smile faded. “Life on the surface has gotten... hectic. After a while, I just started longing for something simpler, more peaceful, y’know? The quiet life.” They dropped their gaze to the floor.

Flowey snorted. “Yeah, more like the boring life.” He glared at their face, trying to meet their eyes. “You selfish, spoiled brat. Giving up on the surface like that. Don’t you realise that monsters have been willing to _kill_ in order to get what you have thrown away?! Don’t you realise that Cha-“ He managed to stop himself just in time. His lower eyelids felt heavy again and his mouth hot and bitter. He lowered his eyes to the ground.

The human remained silent and unresponsive. Flowey huffed again.

He said his piece. Now the human can either justify themself or leave.

After a long moment, he saw the human’s hands place the plate on the ground right in front of him. Glancing up, he saw them smiling again, albeit narrower than before.

“Right, I’m going to leave this pie to you. Feel free to eat it. Or don’t. It’s up to you.” The human tacked the fork in their pocket and stood up. “It’s getting late.“ They motioned at the light from the surface, which took on an orange glow now. “And I don’t want to leave Tori-“ They stopped talking as soon as they saw the look on his face. “I... uh... I should go home.”

Flowey let out a half-hearted snort. He lowered his head and looked away from them.

“See you later, Flowey.”

He heard the human’s footsteps growing quieter and quieter.

He lifted his head up and looked around the room once he couldn’t hear them anymore. Then, once sure the coast was clear, he stuffed his face full of pie.

It was pretty good.

It’s been a while since he had any.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Not abandoning my other WIP, but I kept running into one writer's block after another while writing the next chapter for it. So I decided to start posting this one just to prove to everyone I haven't died yet.
> 
> I don't know if this one will have a consistent update schedule, either, but it should be somewhat shorter and less complex to write in general.
> 
> This work is, in some ways, the antithesis of my other work. I originally thought it would be much fluffier than it ended up being. Still, if it goes according to plan, it should end up being much more optimistic.
> 
> As usual, criticism of any sort is more than welcome.


	2. An Educated Guess

Back when he had control of the timeline, he was willing to try pretty much anything to keep himself from getting bored.

This often meant willingly, enthusiastically, even, doing stuff that he would have never imagined himself doing before, like manipulation, murder...

...schoolwork...

The former two, he’d come to enjoy. Not at first, of course: The first time he killed someone, he felt sick to his core. He immediately reset and run into ~~dad’s~~ Asgore’s arms, bawling so hard it was almost as though he was watering himself. He really was no different than his crybaby of a former self back then.

His manipulative habits, on the other hand, developed almost entirely through chance alone, back during the timelines when he helped everyone; during the course of several resets, he discovered that it was often easiest to help people when they weren’t entirely witting. He didn’t even know that what he was doing was _called_ manipulation until Sans confronted him about it. Back then, he was horrified with himself for how much he enjoyed having this sort of power over other people.

But if there was one advantage to losing his soul, it was the fact that he had been liberated from having to feel guilt. Now, murder and manipulation were just tools in his arsenal. That is, when they weren’t _hobbies_.

Schoolwork, however, is not fun. It never was, and it never will be. He’d know. He actually completed Toriel’s entire homeschooling curriculum five times over with perfect grades before ever launching his first ‘friendliness pellet’. Back then, he thought that by doing _something_ —no matter how boring it might be—he could stop himself from going insane over _not_ doing _anything_.

Flowey may have resorted to doing schoolwork earlier than murder and deliberate manipulation. But he has been doing all three of these things for the exact same reason: he had absolutely nothing better to do.

Still, in hindsight, if he let go of his inhibitions earlier, he probably would have ended going through Toriel’s curriculum last of those three. It wasn’t the most boring thing he could think of, but it was up there.

And that’s why the human’s current actions were so confusing to him.

The human was sitting by the large table in the living room, leaning on their hand. Their face was grim, their eyes focused on a piece of paper. Their palm pushed up the fat of their cheeks onto their cheekbones. With their other hand, they were tapping their pen on the table.

They actually did it. They actually went through with Toriel’s curriculum. They were actually doing _schoolwork_.

It was like the human was _trying_ to baffle him.

Come to think of it, they haven’t been writing for quite a while now. They were probably stuck. What an idiot!

He leaned over their shoulder, trying to see what they were stuck on. They were such an idiot that they only reached—

...a much farther question than the one he reached when he did this particular worksheet for the first time.

Still! They were an idiot for getting stuck on a question like this. They were an idiot for doing schoolwork in the first place!

Maybe he could use it to his advantage. The fact that they were focused on their work meant that they probably didn’t notice him. He could take them by surprise.

He took a deep breath, preparing to shout in their ear—

“Hey, Flowey.”

“Gah!” He recoiled backwards.

They human turned to him while he wasn’t looking. Even though their eyes were tired, they were smiling.

“I would have offered you some pie, but it’s snail pie this time, and I already ate from this slice. So I understand if you don’t want it.” They slid the plate closer to them, just beside the worksheet. “You can still have it if you want, though.”

Still reeling from the surprise, Flowey huffed.

“What are you doing?” He glared at them.

“Toriel set me this work while she’s doing some chores, just to see how much I already know,” said the human, “y’know, Toriel seems nice and sweet, but the work she sets... it’s...” They sighed. “It’s tough. It’s really tough-“

“No. I mean, why are you doing _schoolwork_? It’s BORING.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s boring. It’s just... challenging. Still, I think I would prefer to solve this on my own.“

“Oh, so you want to learn? You want to challenge yourself?” He smirked. “Well well, everything you want lies just beyond that door in the basement.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Out there, there are animate skeletons and flamboyant robots and dogs wearing armour and aggressive fish ladies and beautiful talking luminescent flowers! Aren’t you curious? Doesn’t that sound interesting? Surely, it’s much more interesting than snail behaviour and whatnot.”

The human nodded. “That does sound interesting. But I’m fine here. I guess I’ll just take your word for it. And besides.” They simpered. “It’s not like there aren’t any beautiful talking flowers right _here_.”

Flowey felt his face growing hot. He huffed.

He remembered the time when he first showed Chara the echo flowers. How could he forget? It was one of the rare occasions where their face lit up. And he still couldn’t imagine anything being more beautiful.

But _this_ human didn’t even want to see those flowers. They really were nothing like Chara.

“Hey, didn’t Toriel compliment you on your curiosity? Because you’re not living up to that now.”

He tried to sound playful, but the last part of his sentence still came out as a growl.

“I guess...”

Flowey smirked. “Aha! So, you _admit_ to deceiving her! To presenting yourself as different than you actually are!” His eyes turned to black pits again with white pinpricks for pupils again. His smile grew wider and jagged. “You’re not actually a very curious person at all! You prefer to play things safe.”

“Eh. I don’t think Toriel is complaining.”

Flowey’s smile faded. His eyes narrowed.

“Seriously? Are you really going to tell me that curiosity didn’t play a part in you climbing this mountain at all?”

“Maybe it did. But, when I found out what’s down here, I decided I didn’t want to give it up just to satisfy my curiosity.”

Flowey groaned. This is just like what Sans kept preaching at him to do. Except now, the choice was out of his hands.

After a long, awkward moment, the human turned back to their schoolwork.

But Flowey had another idea.

All at once, a circle of bullets materialised all around the human. The human lifted their head to glance at him. He smirked as the bullets closed in.

The human sighed, stood up on their chair with one leg on the table, and _somersaulted_ over the bullets, performing a perfect three point landing on the table.

Flowey’s smirk dug into his cheeks. Finally, things were getting interesting.

He stood there, still smirking, as the human turned around and looked at him with an impassive look on their face.

What will they do now? Did they snap? About time!

But his smirk faded as the human climbed off the table and sat back down on the chair again.

“Really?!”

The human shrugged. “I still have work to do.”

“Well well, you can’t do THAT if you’re DEAD!”

He launched a wave of bullets at them.

Holding the paper and pen, the human hooked the back of their toes over the table legs and tipped the chair on its back legs, letting the bullets pass over them before pulling the chair back into position.

“You missed.”

Flowey groaned.

He launched another wave of bullets, this time directed lower down.

Still holding the pen and paper, the human stood up, letting the bullets graze their back, before sitting down again.

“Missed again.”

Flowey growled.

How did that human get so good at dodging?! Didn’t they die that one time to a _Froggit_ ¸ of all things?

And then it hit him. They died because they got distracted, overconfident. Who the hell gets overconfident when people are trying to kill them?!

He could see the corners of their mouth crack up. They were _smirking._

He fumed. Oh, what wouldn’t he do to wipe that expression of their face, or at least, get them off that chair. Huh, the chair...

The human’s smile dropped as _they_ dropped to the floor. They shot him a pained look as they sat in the chair scraps.

He smirked back. “This time, I didn’t miss.”

“That was a little excessive, wasn’t it?”

“It got you off that chair. Now-“ He summoned a wave of bullets above his head. “-you’ll have NO CHOICE but to play with me!”

The human laid flat, barely dodging the bullets, before kipping up.

“Hey, if you wanted to play with me, you could have just said so.”

Flowey’s face grew hot. He huffed. “I didn’t want to play with YOU!”

“You just admitted it.”

“Shut up!” He begun sending wave after wave of bullets at them from every direction.

The human responded to the challenge, jumping over the low bullets and ducking beneath the high ones, shifting left, right, backwards and forwards. He couldn’t even scratch them.

He was getting tired, but he couldn’t show it. He mustered up the will to smirk.

“Look at you. Dancing for me.”

“Dancing is fun!” They didn’t even break a sweat.

He growled again, and begun spamming bullets in all direction around him in blind rage. Less accurate from before but more numerous.

But the Human’s dodging remained impeccable.

Suddenly, he heard something break. The human froze in place. Flowey rose up to see that the flowerpot on the table was broken.

“Oh no...” The human was frowning. “We should probably stop.”

He smirked at them and burrowed in the ground.

“Flowey?”

He popped up beneath the table and, using a large mass of friendliness pellets, cracked it in half.

“Flowey!” The human’s eyes were wide now.

He smirked and sunk into the ground again. This time, he popped back up in the living room. After destroying the armchair and collapsing the fireplace, he broke the bookshelf and, with a few precisely-aimed bullets, caused each one of the books to explode into scraps of paper.

“Flowey...” The human pressed their palm onto their forehead.

“My child, is everything alri-“

Toriel stood in the doorway to the kitchen, her eyes wide and her hands held to her mouth.

He managed to hide just in time in a position where he could see Toriel from.

Her eyes surveyed the destroyed room, scanning back and forth, before focusing on the human.

The human sighed, looking around the room despondent. They couldn’t meet her eyes.

Ooh! The human was definitely gonna get it now!

He could barely stifle his giggling.

And then suddenly, the human was sitting on the decisively-not-destroyed chair again, by the decisively-not-destroyed table. And he was right by their side again.

He looked around the room to see the decisively-not-destroyed flowerpot on the table, and the decisively-not-destroyed armchair, and the decisively-not-destroyed bookcase which had all of its perfectly-kept books on it, each one of them also being decisively-not-destroyed.

Oh, right. The human could save and load.

He huffed. Was this what his enemies felt while they were fighting him? Probably not. None of them could remember it.

 It was like the world was _conspiring_ to make him miserable.

And the worst part of it all was that the human turned right back to their schoolwork like nothing happened.

After a moment, he finally thought of something to say:

“Look at you, escaping the consequences of your actions like that.” He made his creepy face again. “You’re no better than I am.”

They glanced at him. “I didn’t escape the consequences of _my_ actions. I escaped the consequences of _yours_.”

He huffed again. Stupid human and their logic!

He took a moment to consider his next course of action; the human was immune to manipulation, and effectively immune to murder.

Were they also immune to schoolwork?

Probably not. They were _still_ stuck on that stupid question. He could use it to his advantage!

“Hey, if you finish this work, will you do something _interesting_ , for a change?”

“Well, define interesting.“

“Will you do _anything_ other than sit in that chair, looking at this piece of paper?!”

The human nodded. “I have a lot of plans for this afternoon, actually.”

“In that case, well...” He took a closer look at the question the human was stuck on. “Huh, it doesn’t really surprise me you got stuck on that one. This one is actually-“

He recoiled as he felt their gentle hand pat the side on his stem. They pulled it back and sighed.

“Look, Flowey, I appreciate your help, but I’d really prefer to do this on my-“

"How long have you been stuck on this stupid question?! Let’s face it, my distraction was a _relief_ to you. Do you really want to spend the rest of you afternoon staring at this stupid piece of paper?”

“I guess...” The human held their chin and let their eyes stray for a moment, before turning back to him. “You’re right. Thank you, Flowey.”

He smirked. So there _were_ limits to the human’s honor! Accepting his help, being willing to pass his work as their own, it all meant they were _corruptible_!

They’ll fall to the dark side in no time!

“Right, so, this one is a trick question. It’s about-“ His eyes grew sad. “-it’s about the properties of the SOUL, and the effect that SOUL damage or loss has on a person.” He dropped his eyes to the ground. “The answer Toriel expects is that...” He took a deep breath. “A damaged SOUL makes you ill, and lacking a SOUL means you are dead. There’s no such thing as a living being without a SOUL.”

“But that’s not true.”

“Well,” he snapped, “that’s the answer she wants you to give, so if you want to avoid any further headaches, just write that down. And besides, if you think you know better, why did you pretend like you were stuck?!”

“I wasn’t pretending. Even knowing the answer, I really was stuck. I was just...” The human grasped the pen tighter and took a deep breath. ”...not sure how to phrase my answer.”

“Well, don’t get cocky. For all _you_ know, you might be just as wrong about this as she is. What was the answer you were going to give?”

“A damaged SOUL makes you ill, just like Toriel thinks. I know that from experience. A missing SOUL, however...” They turned and looked to him, the expression on their face unreadable. “...makes it more difficult to have positive feelings.”

Flowey snorted. “Well, you _are_ wrong. It doesn’t make it _more difficult_ to feel anything. It makes it _impossible_ to feel anything. But still.” He raised an eyebrow. “How did you come to that conclusion, anyway?”

The human’s eyes widened. “W-well! There was t-this book here talking about how monster SOULs were m-made of love and hope and compassion! So umm... if someone’s missing their SOUL, it m-might mean that they might have a h-harder time feeling those things, y’know? Just an educated guess!”

“Right.”

The human was bluffing. Toriel never kept any books in her house talking about the properties of human and monster SOULs in terms of stuff like monster SOULs being made of love, hope and compassion. That might make her _precious_ human children feel unwelcome.

Still, he decided not to push the issue. The human was probably just reading some kind of weird human literature on the surface and ended up mixing—and making—stuff up. They seemed like the sort who’d do that.

After the human finished writing, they looked to the rest of the paper.

“It seems like it should be an easy sailing from now on.”

“Right. I guess I’ll be going, then. I’m getting tired of looking at you.” He smirked again. “But you better show me what you were planning to do this afternoon.”

“I will. I promise. Thank you for your help, Flowey!”

He sunk into the ground, but, unbeknownst to the human, he didn’t leave the room. He just hid in a vantage point and continued watching them as they wrote.

He watched them as they swung their legs back and forth. Now that they were no longer stuck, their face lit up. They wrote without stop, with quick, fluid motions. Their tongue lodged in their cheek.

Was doing schoolwork really this exciting for them? Wow.

After a few minutes, they dropped the pen, picked up the paper, and marched into the kitchen. He burrowed in the ground again, and popped up in his favourite hiding point in the kitchen.

“I’m done!”

Toriel, who was doing the dishes at the time, turned to them, wiping her hands in a towel. “Splendid, my child! And so quickly, too!” She reached out with a dry hand and rubbed their head. “I shall get to marking this as soon as I can.”

“May I go explore the Ruins now?”

“You have my permission, but please be careful! There are many monsters there who are still unaccustomed to the presence of humans in the Underground. Should you ever find yourself in a situation that is dangerous, please do not hesitate to leave post-haste and get me.”

“Don’t worry! I already went through the Ruins before. Haven’t I?”

“I would not have let you go _sans_ guidance if you did not.” Toriel let out a giggle. The human smiled. Flowey felt like screaming.

“Oh, and before you go-” Toriel went to the fridge and pulled out a chocolate bar. “-take this. As a reward for doing your work so well. And as a way to celebrate your first night in the Underground.”

“Huh?” The human’s smile faded.

She gave them the chocolate bar. “This is your favourite type, is it not?”

“M-my favourite? I... I m-mean—“ They took the chocolate bar in both hands, clutching it to their chest and lowering their head. “Thank you, miss Toriel. That was...” Their voice was getting weaker with every word. “...very thoughtful of you.”

“You are welcome, my child.” She moved forwards to rub their head again.

Flowey could barely stifle a giggle. Oh man, that old hag’s delusion was even worse than he thought!

Serves the human right.


	3. Through Their Stomachs

_His gamble paid off. He knew they could do it!_

_They made everyone love them again. They always had a knack for that._

_But this time, he wasn’t jealous either of them or over them. This only served to his advantage. And besides, he knew that they could never care for anyone else like they did for him._

_They just had to remember._

_Soon, he will bring about his final phase of the plan. It’ll be fun!_

_And the best part is, once he’s done, they’ll never leave him again._

_The two of them will be together forever._

Flowey stiffened in place as he snapped back to reality. The memory-not-memory that ran in his head was simultanously hazy and vivid.

He tried to recall what he had been doing. Wait, the Human- He lost sight of the Human!

The Human was doing something interesting now, and he was missing it!

He burrowed into the ground and managed to find them just outside the door to Home. It wasn’t as interesting as it could have been. It was the inner door that lead back to the Ruins and not the door that lead outside.

But still, for once, the Human was doing something interesting. Rather than the usual schoolwork or kissing Toriel’s behind.

They walked with a spring in their step. Their eyes were full of light.

What were they planning? Were they going to do something nefarious? He couldn’t wait.

He kept following them as they entered the spider bakery.

Once they were inside, they dug in their pockets and pulled out a fistful of coins, which they then placed in the spiderweb selling the spider donuts.

Flowey glanced at the sign. No, the donuts did not become more expensive while he wasn’t watching.

A quiet moment ensued, as, once they saw the Human’s actions, some of the spiders retreated to the ceiling.

The Human stood in place, fidgeting with the sleeves of their sweater.

A spider rolled down from a single string of spider silk, carrying a small piece of paper that had something scribbled on it. Flowey strained to look, but he could not make out what was written on the note.

He took comfort in the idea that perhaps he wasn’t the only one who noticed how _weird_ the Human was being.

The Human took the paper from the spider and scanned it.

 “Well, it’s just-“ The Human took a deep breath. “I had this idea that maybe, I can buy your donuts, and then I can go around and share them with some of the people of the Ruins. It’ll be like free advertisement! Well, if it’s okay with you...”

Oh, what wouldn’t he give to see what was written on there! If it left the Human justifying themself, it had to have been good.

Another quiet moment ensued, before another spider rolled down, carrying another note

After reading the second note, the Human smiled. “Well, I thought it’d be nice to help you out. It seems like a good cause.”

Flowey scowled. Were the spiders _really_ going to buy this?

After a few moments, a group of spiders rolled down from their strings, holding together a cardboard box tied together with a neat little bow. They lowered the box into the Human’s arms. There was another note on top of the box.

The Human grinned upon reading the note. “It’s no big deal, really! Thanks for letting me do this. See ya.”

Gah, why did they have to be so _disgustingly_ saccharine all the time?

 

* * *

 

 

The first monster the Human ran into was a Migosp. They took out a donut.

“Heya, would you like a-“

“FILTHY SINGLE MINDER”

The Human’s heart was pulled out. Swarms of bugs flew to either side of them with so much force it made the wind blow in their face. They winced.

“Alright, alright. Someone’s with you.” They scanned the room. “But where-“

“Give me your lunch money!”

The Human chuckled and turned to face the Loox that approached them from behind. Unfazed by the Loox’s one-eyed glared, they stepped towards him.

“Sorry. I don’t have any money left. You can have my lunch, though.”

“Don’t pick on me!”

They held out the donut to him. “It’s fine. I’m not picking on you. You really can have it.”

The Loox’s eye narrowed for a moment, before he grabbed the donut and took a bite of it.

All at once, his body language relaxed. He closed his eye, savouring the taste.

“Finally someone gets it.”

He walked away, still snacking on the donut.

The Human turned back to the Migosp, who has now taken to dancing in place.

“Would you like a donut?”

“Mm, cha cha cha! Yah!”

“Here you go!”

Flowey’s scowl grew deeper and deeper.

This Human was like this for _everyone_ , not just him. They probably thought that _he_ was one of those weak minded fools who can be swayed by meaningless niceties. That was the only reason they were nice to him before.

He’ll show them. He will prove them wrong.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m sorry...”

“Oh?” The Human turned towards the Whimsun that approached them from behind.

The Whimsun was clutching its thin little hands to its chest. It looked like it was on the verge of breaking into tears.

The Human smiled. “It’s fine. Here, have this-”

The Whimsun shrieked as the Human thrust the donut at it.

The Human pulled back, frowning.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

They held out the donut again, their movement gentler and less sudden.

After a brief pause, the Whimsun leaned in and sniffed the donut.

Only to pull back again, whimpering, looking at the Human with tearful eyes.

“Huh? Oh.” The Human squatted down to the point where they were on eye level with the Whimsun, placing the box on the ground. “I get it. Spiders usually eat moths, don’t they. But it’s fine. I’m not gonna hurt you. And this donut is harmless.” They broke the donut to small pieces and laid the pieces across the palm of their hand. “See? No spiders inside. Well, not live ones, anyways.”

The Whimsun hovered for a moment, still clutching its arms to its chest, before it finally mustered up the courage to reach in and grab a piece of the donut.

The Human smiled as the Whimsun begun licking the gooey filling inside the donut piece. With another slow, careful movement, they reached out with their other hand. The Whimsun winced and shrunk away, so the Human kept holding their hand in place, not reaching any further but not pulling back either.

After a moment, the Whimsun relaxed, and took another donut piece. The Human lowered their hand and traced between the Whimsun’s antennas with the tips of their fingers. Then they brought the palm down.

Flowey grimaced as the Whimsun relaxed into the Human’s touch. He glared as the Whimsun begun pushing into their palms to encourage them to pet it even more. His face grew hot.

 _He_ never managed to get a Whimsun to trust him like that! Why are everyone falling for this Human? Didn’t they know that humans aren’t like that, no matter how much they pretend they are?

Once the Whimsun finished eating, it lingered in place for a few moments, indulging in the Human’s petting like the irritating, pathetic creature it was. Before uttering a soft “thank you” and scurrying away.

Flowey kept glaring at the Human for a few moments as they picked up the box and stood.

...Only to realise that they had been looking in his general direction. And _stepping_ in his general direction. Their eyes fixed on him like a predator stalking its prey. A _niceness_ predator, stalking its prey.

He managed to burrow in the ground and find another hiding spot just before the Human reached him. He watched as they shook their head.

See? He _wasn’t_ like one of those soft-hearted fools who lose their minds at some _stupid_ displays of kindness!

 

* * *

 

 

Out of all monster subspecies in the Underground, Flowey hated Vegetoids the most, even more than Jerries. There were individual monsters who he hated more, like Sans and Napstablook. But as far as entire subspecies go, Vegetoids were the worst.

Toriel would have been mad at him if she knew how racist he was. But at this point, he was long past the point of caring about her opinion. If the Vegetoids didn’t want him to hate them, they should have tried being less terrible.

He could rant for hours on end about all the reasons he hated them. A glaring one being that they the only other type of plant monster in the Underground. And they were hellbent on giving plant monsters a bad name by insisting that plants can’t talk.

Their most irritating habit, however, was their obsession with healthy food, shoving vegetables down people’s throats and preaching about _‘greens_ ’.

Even the Human wasn’t immune, as now they were involved in an argument with a Vegetoid regarding the nutritional value of spider donuts. With any luck, they would be getting pretty frustrated about this by now.

 “-But spider donuts _aren’t_ just made of sugar and fats and carbs,” said the Human for what must’ve been the fifth time, “they’re made of _spiders_ , they gotta have _some_ proteins and nutrients-”

“EAT YOUR GREENS, FIRST.”

The Human dropped their shoulders. “All right. I don’t mind-“

The Vegetoid slapped a carrot in the Human’s hand and burrowed into the ground before the Human could say anything else.

The Human stood frozen for a moment, looking back and forth between the carrot and the disturbed ground where the Vegetoid had just been.

Flowey felt giddy. Did that annoy the Human? Finally.

But the Human just let out a chuckle, took a bite out the carrot and walked away.

Flowey couldn’t believe it. The Human actually _liked_ healthy food?

 

 

* * *

 

 

Flowey didn’t hate Moldsmals as much as he hated Vegetoids, but he still hated them quite a bit. And the way the Human dealt with Moldmals wasn’t helping.

Seeing the Human dancing around, wiggling their hips at a Moldsmal, irritated him even more than the Human’s previous displays of false sweetness. And it didn’t help that the Human’s first approach of that Moldsmal was accompanied by them calling out “hey there, good-looking!”

He recalled the time the Human referred to _him_ as beautiful. His face burned just thinking about it.

It was all the more proof that the Human’s kind act was just that: an act. After all, if they didn’t mean it they were being flirty, why would they mean it when they were being _nice_?

And the thought that the Human might be honest when flirting with the Moldsmal, it-

Flowey banged his head on the ground before he could finish that thought.

No. He _wasn’t_ aggravated by the Human being flirty towards other people. He couldn’t care less! Why would he?

He raised his head up just in time to see the Human throw a donut towards the Moldsmal. Only to be startled as the Moldsmal dissolved it into nothingness with a thundering _Squorch_.

An odd sense of satisfaction bubbled inside Flowey.

The Human probably didn’t think that the Moldsmal was so _‘good looking’_ anymore!

 

* * *

“zzz”

Flowey cringed.

Napstablook, in all their irritating glory.

The Human, on the other hand, smiled at the sight of the ghost blocking their path. They pulled out a donut and kneeled down.

“Hey, Napstablook.”

Napstablook rose up, their face brightening at the sight of the Human. And then their face fell again.

“oh no... i’m blocking your path again, aren’t i...” They began tearing up.

The Human gasped. “No, no! It’s fine! No need to cry! Here, have a donut!”

Napstablook smiled, their eyes tearful. “oh... thank you...”

The Human held out the donut. With a small smile, Napstablook floated towards them and reached for the donut...Only to phase through.

Napstablook’s face fell again. Their lower lip quivered. “oh no... i’m disappointing you, aren’t i-“

“No!” The Human furrowed their brows. “If you want this donut, you _will_ get it! I’m not giving up on you.” They thrust the donut at Napstablook, submerging it inside them. “Napstablook, stay determined! Don’t give up on the deliciousness just because it’s difficult!”

Flowey scoffed. Who did this Human think they were, Undyne?

No, not possible. They didn’t even meet her. Idiot minds must think alike.

“oh...” Napstablook smiled again. “thank you... i’ll try harder... for you.”

 

* * *

 

A few minutes later, Flowey was ready to scream at something, or rather, _someone_.

The Human was still holding the donut. Although the determined expression remained on their face, they were getting visibly uncomfortable. Their arm was shaking.

Hopefully they will decide that they had enough soon.

“oh...” Napstablook kept hovering in place, staring at the donut inside them. ”this is awkward...”

 

* * *

 

Some time has passed, probably a really long time, like hours, days even. Weeks, years, centuries!

And the Human was still holding the goddamn donut.

Flowey would have felt inclined to use the usual analogies for this type of situation. But this situation was worse.

Paint _does_ dry _eventually_! Grass _does_ grow!

But this task was pointless! Futile! Fruitless! This Human is going to stand there for all eternity!

He’s gonna have to intervene.

But just as he was ready to move in, an ethereal-sounding _squorch_ echoed through the room, and the donut disappeared.

The Human pulled their hand out of Napstablook and begun rotating their arm around their shoulder. “Well, that was easy.” They pulled their arm and held it across their chest with the forearm of their other arm, stretching it. “And it only took, umm...” They took out the phone Toriel gave them. “...Half an hour...”

“oh... sorry...”

“It’s no problem, really!”

“i... probably should have tried to absorb it earlier...”

The look in the Human’s eyes turned blank. “You... could have absorbed it instantly... and you didn’t?”

“you seemed to be really focused on that donut... i didn’t want to disturb you...”

And that’s why Flowey hated Napstablook! Well, one of the reasons, anyway.

Flowey saw the Human close their eyes and take a deep breath. He felt giddy.

But when they opened their eyes again, they smiled at Napstablook.

“Right,” said the Human, “it was nice seeing you! I’m really glad you managed to eat this donut in the end!”

“thank you... human.. i know myself much better now...”

“Take care, Napstablook!”

And with that, Napstablook disappeared. The Human sprung up and went back down the path into the deeper Ruins.

Flowey couldn’t help but groan. Was this Human completely incapable of getting angry or impatient?!

 

* * *

Flowey noticed the Froggit before the Human did. How could he not? In the past, he would have not thought anything special about this Froggit, but now, he knew differently.

This was the Froggit that managed to kill the Human.

 He held his breath in anticipation of the incoming attack.

...Only for the Froggit to open its mouth.

 “Ribbit, Ribbit (Hello, Human.)”

The Human turned to the Froggit. Flowey could have sworn that he saw their eyes widen for a moment before they regained their composure.

“Oh, hello.” The Human smiled. “Want a donut?”

“(Gladly.)”

“Here you go!”

Flowey huffed. Were they just going to ignore the fact that this Froggit _killed_ them?

Admittedly, the Froggit wasn’t the only one who made attempts on their life. It wasn’t even the first. He beat it to that. But still!

There was a difference between being _nearly_ killed and actually being _killed_.

The first time he died... well... he didn’t like thinking about it.

The first time a _monster_ killed him, he spent weeks in the next timeline in shock. Several timelines later, when he had started killing people, he made a point of getting revenge.

But this Human seemed to just brush off their death like it was nothing.

As a matter of fact, being _nearly_ killed was no joke either. Their interaction with this Froggit was only the most egregious example of how _weird_ they were about it all. How could they be so chummy with people who, only a day ago, were trying to kill them and reap their soul?

Why were they so chummy with _him_ , who had been nothing but completely, utterly and unapologetically awful to them?

Mercy and forgiveness are worthless. All they do is cause you more pain. This Human really was an idiot.

A croak tore him out of his thoughts.

“Ribbit, Ribbit (Thank you. I always wanted to try one of those.)”

The Human tilted their head. “Why couldn’t you try one before?”

“(I couldn’t find the bake sale.)”

“Oh! In that case, I can show you the way.“

“(Thank you, human. But I doubt I’d remember it. I am no good with directions.)”

“C’mon, I’ll show you! It’ll be just like making your way back to your house.”

“(I have a house?)”

 

* * *

Once he was sure that they were not going to encounter any more monsters, he burrowed in the ground and headed to the flowerbed. Due to the fact he had a few minutes head start, he had enough time to prepare for the Human’s arrival.

He sprung beside the flowerbed and stood half-submerged in the light, his back to the entrance to the Ruins. And like that, he waited.

It took a couple of minutes, but eventually, he heard the Human’s footsteps right outside the door.

He was about to turn around dramatically when-

“You know,” said the Human, “I noticed you on the way here. You didn’t have to make me walk all the way back here to meet you.”

He still turned around as dramatically as he possibly could, and was met by the Human’s stony face. He took a moment to think of something cool to say.

 “I wanted to.”

Okay. That was lame. But maybe he can spin this as an act of _masterful_ trolling.

 He stuck his tongue out.

The Human shrugged.

“Fair enough. Hey, want a-”

 “No. I hate these donuts.”

“Oh. That’s fine, then-”

“Say, was _this_ really what you were talking about when you said you had plans for this afternoon?”

The Human sat beside him. “Well, yes. I’m sorry this wasn’t more interesting“

“Well, you better be.” He glared at them. “Then again, I can’t really blame you. There’s _nothing_ else to do here.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” said the Human, “I’ve only just started my life here. I have plans-“

“Oh yeah? What sort of plans?”

“Well, befriending the inhabitants of the Ruins, for starters. Learning from Toriel-“

“These are _boring_ plans.”

“-And helping the spiders leave the Ruins.”

Okay, the last one was actually kind of interesting. It’s not like he never tried doing that, himself, but he usually went the quick route of having Asgore fund it all. An option that the Human, obviously, didn’t have.

And now that they’ve mentioned it, there was something he was still curious about.

“Say, what was written in those notes the spiders gave you?”

The Human chuckled. “Well, it’s nothing interesting. But I’ll show you.” They dug the notes out from their pocket and laid them across the floor.

_‘Human, while we are grateful for your business, your actions have piqued our curiosity. Why are you buying so many donuts?’_

_‘‘It’s fine. You already paid for the donuts. You can do whatever you want with them. And we appreciate your initiative in advertising us. But still, you’re doing us a huge favour, and you’re willing to pay US to do so. Why?’_

_‘Thank you, human. You are too kind. Few people out there are willing to go out of their way for our sake.’_

He scowled. Even the spiders were affected by the Human.

The Human’s arrival really did change everything for the worst.

He whipped his head up to see the Human smiling at him. It was a small, insecure smile, almost as if asking _‘are you impressed?’_

Well, he wasn’t impressed. He wasn’t impressed at all.

“You know,” he said, his voice low, “by refusing to leave the Ruins, you are leaving the rest of the Underground at _my_ mercy.”

The Human’s smile faded.

“I could leave the Ruins now, and wreak havoc on the monsters out there. I could kill them all.” He made his creepy face. “I did it before, over and over again. I _mastered_ the techniques behind it.”

The Human dropped their eyes to the ground.

“But hey, it doesn’t matter, right? You don’t actually care about any of these people. You try to seem like a kind person so they’d like you. And no one in the Ruins is going to assume that sweet little you had anything to do with-”

“Flowey,” said the Human. The tone of their voice even, controlled.

His breath hitched. He paused, waiting for their next word like a desert dweller that found a water spring.

“You’re right. You can do that, and I won’t be able to stop you. But.“ The Human took a deep breath. “If I ever find out you did something like that, I’ll reload on the spot.”

He glared at them. “And what if you didn’t find out? Or what if you found out too late?” His glare gave way to a smirk. “I could trick you into saving over someone’s death. I could make you my accomplice-“

“In that case, I’ll reset.” They raised their head up to look in his eyes. “I don’t mind the repetition, Flowey. I like my life here. And redoing things just gives me an opportunity to do them better. The same, however, is not true for you. You _hate_ repetition.”

Their face remained stony. There was not a hint of anger or hatred in their voice, but their conviction was clear.

He glared at them.

“The fact is, Flowey, that I have more mental stamina, and more determination than you do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to save and load in your place.”

He growled at them.

The look in their eyes softened for a brief moment. “Look, Flowey, I know you’re upset about this, but.” The determination returned to their gaze. “That’s how it’s going to be from now on. So you’ll have to get used to-”

“Shut up! Stop talking like this!”

“Like what?”

His eyes filled with hot tears. “Stop talking like you’re some kind of adult lecturing a bratty kid. Stop pretending like you’re all so diplomatic and wise and pure. You’re fake! Everything about you is fake!”

He couldn’t help but yell the last part. He huffed and puffed for a few seconds, before his angry breathing gave way to sobbing.

The Human said nothing. They dropped their head to the ground again, their face grim.

This moment persisted for a few minutes. The Human sat still and let him sob himself to exhaustion. And they kept sitting still for a few minutes past the point where he grew quiet.

When he finally raised his head up to glare at them again, the Human was smiling at him, even though their eyebrows were furrowed. They held the chocolate bar Toriel gave them out to him.

“Huh?“

“Well, you told me you don’t like spider donuts. But I thought you might like some chocolate,” said the Human, “I was going to offer you before, but, well...”

“What, you think that I would be _touched_ by your _selfless_ sacrifice? You think that’d make me forgive you?“

“Nah. I just don’t like chocolate.”

“You really are a weirdo.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Flowey examined the chocolate bar from all sides, before looking up at the Human again. He raised an eyebrow. “You... really like feeding people, don’t you.”

The Human chuckled. “They say that the way to someone’s heart is through their stomach.”

“Right. Good luck with that. I don’t have a heart,” said Flowey, a smirk creeping up his face, “but you know what, I’ll take it.”

“That’s all I really wanted.”

Soon, the sound of Flowey’s chewing filled the room. Some of the time, Flowey took big bites out of the chocolate bar. Other times, the Human broke individual cubes out for him.

It’s been a while since he had chocolate. He forgot how _good_ it was. Chewy and soft, the sweet, nutty taste melted in his mouth perfectly. He found himself licking his lips after every bite, trying to get more and more of that taste.

He was still angry deep down, or so he told himself. But he had to admit: it was difficult to stay bitter when you are eating something so sweet.

When the Human handed him his last cube, he took as long as possible to savour it. He wished it could last forever. But then he remembered nothing good lasts forever.

The thought soured his mood again.

He looked to the Human again. They were smiling. His eyes travelled from their face to their chocolate stained-fingers.

A part of him considered leaning in and licking the chocolate off. And then he realised what he was thinking.

“Well,” said the Human, “did you like it?”

“It was okay.”

The Human beamed. “Good! I’m glad we managed to finish on a good note today.”

A part of him wanted to protest. But, feeling bloated and sleepy, he didn’t have the energy to do so.

The Human stood up, wiping the chocolate on their pants. They turned away and nearly tripped on their feet and into the flowerbed. They caught themself in time.

“Oh. Whoops! That was a close one.” The Human was panting. “I wouldn’t want to be disrespectful— I-I mean! Disrespectful to you!” They turned towards him again. “It would probably give out to wrong message, I-I mean, stepping on the flowers in front of you!”

Flowey raised an eyebrow. The Human was being weird again.

Suddenly, a voice called out, “Hello? My child, are you there?”

Flowey froze.

The Human whipped their head towards the doorway. Their eyes widened. “I’m here!”

Toriel stepped in before Flowey could burrow into the ground. Her eyes, bright at the sight of the Human, darkened when she noticed _him_.

“My child, is everything okay?”

He could see the embers at the tips of her fingers.

The Human stepped in front of him. “Y-yeah! Everything is fine!”

Toriel leaned to the side to look past the Human. “That is the _creature_ who attacked you when you first fell, is it not?”

Flowey glared at her. His mouth felt hot and bitter again. “I’m not even the only one who attacked them...”

“Y-yeah! That’s right! I-I mean, not that you should be angry at anyone else now either. But he’s not the only one!” said the Human.

“In any case,” said Toriel, “my child, he did not hurt you, did he?”

“No! Actually, we’re friends now,” said the Human.

 “Hey, speak for yourself!” Flowey’s face was hot.

Toriel raised an eyebrow, her eyes narrowed and her mouth was tight.

“Well, umm... I should introduce you! Toriel, this is Flowey. He’s a kid, like me!” said the Human, “you should take him in.”

Flowey’s eyes filled with hot tears.

Take him in... So what? So he can stand around and _watch_ them be happy together, while he can’t? So he bask in her coldness because, as she now has this _perfect_ Human child, she has no need for him? So he can see Toriel treat this Human as her golden child, cementing just how much she forgot all about...?

“Shut up! Both of you, shut up! You’ll take me in over my cold, dead plant body!”

The Human jumped. Toriel’s face hardened.

“My child, your intentions may be sweet, but it is clear that _Flowey_ does not want to come with us,” said Toriel, “Let us head home now. I am sure that he can function on his own. It appears that he had no problem to do so before now.”

The Human dropped their head. Their whole body language limp, they let Toriel grab their hand and take them away.

They shot him one final, pained look as they were dragged through the doorway.

Only when both the Human and Toriel were gone did he allow himself to start bawling.


	4. Shrine

Frisk only dared open their eyes again when they heard the faint sound of a door creaking shut.

They scanned the room, first around them, and then leaning over the bed frame. They looked for Flowey on the floor. Only once they ensured that they were alone did they pull out from under the covers. And only after looking around again did they allow their toes to touch the ground.

They slunk on the balls of their feet, their every step calculated. They hopped over the plate of pie on the floor.

As much as they appreciated Toriel’s generous nature, they had to admit: they could do without pie tonight. It was a close call when Toriel came in to place it, about an hour after they went to bed. They had mistaken the sound of their room door opening to be the sound of the door opening in Toriel’s room, and had assumed that she went to sleep. They only had a split second to correct their mistake and feign sleep again.

Considering what they were going to do now, Frisk _definitely_ needed Toriel to be down for the night. She couldn’t know. They couldn’t even depend on their determination for this. _Flowey_ couldn’t know, either.

They grasped the handle of their door and pressed down, centimetre by centimetre, before pressing against the door. They stopped, cringing, as the door creaked. After a brief, but tense pause they decided to just shimmy through the narrow gap they already managed to make.

They snuck through the corridor. Once they reached the door to Toriel’s room, they paused. They knelt over to look through the peephole, balancing themself as they did not dare lean on the door.

Even through the dark, they could spot a noticeable mound beyond the footboard on Toriel’s bed. She went to sleep. Good.

Still, they should be careful, and quick.

A few careful steps and they were there: the door at the end of the corridor. The one covered in the innocent-seeming sign ‘ _room under renovations’_.  Frisk might not have known what was behind that door, but they knew better.

They took a deep breath and grabbed the key in their pocket, gripping it so hard they could feel the pressure in their thumb.

They had grabbed it off Toriel’s room back when she was making the two of them dinner. She has been doing them yet another kind act in a long list of kind acts. And they repaid it all by stealing from her.

They really were a parasite, leeching off other people’s kindness to them. Just like they’ve been leeching off _his_ sacrifice, and stealing _his_ family.

They whipped out the key and shoved it in the keyhole before they could lose their nerve again. Another burst of courage later, they turned the key. This time, the click was mercifully faint.

They pushed the door open. No creak this time. Perhaps they weren’t the only one who sought to enter this place unnoticed.

A thought crossed their head: It really was good that _he_ wasn’t here to see this.

Frisk hated thinking like this. Recalling the various interactions between Flowey and Toriel made their soul shrivel.

But there was one silver lining to it:  their last meeting ensured that Flowey wouldn’t be here tonight. This silver lining was thin and small, and it was selfish of them to consider it such. But a part of them remained grateful for it. He couldn’t see them doing this.

They stepped in and closed the door behind them.

They scanned the room, starting at their feet and leading up to the back wall. This room was messy, unlike the rest of Toriel’s house. Immediately to the right, there was a table, turned on its side so its flat side was against the wall. Ahead of it, there was what looked like a king-sized bed, missing its mattress and also turned against the wall. To the left, there was nothing but bare wall, leading to a corner.

It was as they expected: Asgore’s room.

But only once they turned around the corner, did they find the real items of interest. It took them a few moments to take it all in.

A shrine to Toriel’s lost loved ones. It was a small wooden cabinet, and all around it, children’s items. On the wall, a ribbon tied in a beautifully even bow and a coloured belt hung off a couple of pins. They were covered in so much dust that the slightest wind or touch could make the specks cloud the room. The rest of the items were strewn on the cabinet’s surface. A book with a dull, dusty cover leaning against the wall. A small, golden, metallic star, covered in rust. A chef’s hat, dusty and crumpled, at the forefront. And a medal, its band spread out in a wide circle over the table, with a medallion that has long lost its luster.

And right in the middle of the display, inside the circle made by the medal’s band, there was a picture. _Chara and Asriel._ Toriel’s _real_ children.

They stared, agape at the picture. Absent-minded, they reached for it, tracing the frame with their fingertips. Panic filled their chest when they realised what they were doing. They pulled their hand back as though burned.

But when they looked at their fingers, they could not see a single speck of dust.

They had suspected it before, but now it was clear. It was clearer to them than it was to anyone else, even Toriel herself. But especially Flowey.

They had no doubt Flowey had been here. He must have inspected every single item in this room, trying to make sense of it. But he couldn’t see what they saw.

It was a shame, too. If only he realised, it could have soothed his pain.

Frisk took a deep breath.

They spent the entire last timeline living a lie. This revelation should be comforting for them. They weren’t the only liar.

But they doubted these lies were on the same level. When Toriel was deceiving them, she was deceiving herself, too. She tried to pretend that she didn’t have another name on her tongue every time she said their name. But she was _trying,_ for _Frisk’s_ sake.

But when they were deceiving Asgore and Toriel, Frisk _knew_ what they were doing. Frisk hid from them the fact that their son was alive, and _suffering_. It didn’t help anyone other than themself.

Perhaps what happened _then_ was their punishment.

Frisk fidgeted with the hem of their sweater, they felt their face scrunch up and their mouth grow bitter.

Even now, they could not stop deceiving everyone around them. Wearing the mask of an ordinary fallen child, just another prisoner down here. Not the one who ripped everyone’s freedom away from them. Not the one who wasted everyone’s hard work and sacrifice.

Flowey was right. They really were fake. It was astonishing that he was the only one who could see it.

Their eyes fell on the cabinet drawers.

Upon opening the drawers, they found some more tidbits, clean and well kept: a plushie, a book about history, an _ancient_ video camera, and a sweater.

Frisk reached into the drawer and pulled out the sweater. It was soft, freshly cleaned and perfumed, clearly old but as well kept as new. Who, of the two, did it belong to?

Upon pressing the sweater’s shoulders to their own, they knew the answer. This sweater fit them perfectly.

It was clear to them what they had to do next. They already told, and lived, so many lies. What’s one more?

This is their chance to redeem themself, to make _her_ happy, maybe even make _him_ happy. It’s their only chance, and it wouldn’t be for long.

They had to do this.

They folded the sweater over their forearm and shut the drawer. When they left the room, they made sure to lock the door behind them. They made a mental note to return the key to its place as soon as it’s safe to do so.

Only the sweater should remain in their possession.


	5. Wordplay

“Asriel,” said Dad, “would you like to read a human fairy tale? There’s a new one that has been found since... well...” He cleared his throat. “There’s this human story I found that I haven’t the chance to read to you yet, it’s called ‘ _The Little Mer-‘”_

“I don’t want to read some stupid fairy tale,” said Asriel. “I’m not a baby.”

Dad’s eyes softened with hurt. If Asriel still had his compassion, he’d have felt the need to comfort him. Or even humor him and listen to one of his dumb stories after all. But he no longer had that kind of patience.

“You used to love human fairytales,” said Dad.

“I also used to have a soul, and a body.”

“The soul thing is just, uhh... speculation, remember? Asriel, you’re alive, are you not? You must hav-“

“Where is it, then?! Where is my soul? It disappeared after I died, hasn’t it?! Where would I-“

“Asriel-“

“Stop pretending like there’s nothing wrong with me! I don’t have my body or my soul anymore! I’m broken.”

“Asriel,” said dad, his voice shook, “I will tell you this time and time again. You are not broken, my child. You are not lacking. I do not care what happened to you or which form you take. You are still my son. And I will never stop loving you.”

“Yeah.” Asriel dropped his head to the ground. “You already told me.”

“It is true.”

“But it doesn’t help. Dad, I can’t feel it. I told you already!”

“Asriel...” Dad’s eyes glistened. It only made Asriel feel worse. Dad was the biggest and strongest in the Underground. He didn’t cry. He wouldn’t. “I wish there was something I could do to help you...”

“I...” Asriel choked back a sob. Even without his soul, he was still a crybaby. “I... I know I’ve said it before, but... I think that if mom and Chara were here, then...”

“I know, my child. I know.” Dad paused for a moment before he stood up from his chair. Even from Asriel’s vantage point on in a flowerpot on the table, dad towered over him, which reminded him of how small he’s gotten. Dad took a deep breath, stood straight, and closed his eyes, puffing his chest as though he was giving a speech to his people. “Asriel, listen, I can no longer avoid this topic. I am so, so sorry.” Dad opened his eyes. “I sent out news of your return to whom may listen, and requested your mother’s presence back in the castle. I sent the Royal Guard far and wide to look for her, but they came empty.” Dad’s eyes softened. “I am afraid it is just the two of us now.”

Asriel looked away. His lower eyelids filled up as his face burned.

“My child. I am sure that if your mother was here, she would have told you she loves you, and would love you no matter what.”

Asriel felt tears escaping his eyes and little whines and wails escaping his throat. In the past, he would muffle those with a sleeve, but now there was no escape from the humiliation of it all.

Dad pulled him to his chest, cradling him. His paw behind Asriel’s sepals. “I promise you. As long as you live, I will love you enough for both of us.”

Asriel muffled his sobs in Dad’s chest. He yearned for nothing more than to believe his words. Logically, the love _must_ have been there, he just had to find it. He thought of dad’s hug, the droplets that fell on his head, the fingers that cupped behind his sepals. He ran dad’s words through his head over and over.

Nothing worked.

 

* * *

 

That night, he made up his mind. He needed to find mom.

First, he needed to find a way out of dad’s sight. It was something he hadn’t done before, as once dad found out who he was, he wouldn’t let him. Dad has insisted on putting him in a flowerpot and carrying him everywhere, like a _baby_. When Asriel protested, Dad said those five damned words:

  _‘I can’t lose you again.’_

Asriel understood it, but it didn’t make him hate it any less.

But there was _one_ window of time, one avenue through which he could escape. Every night, dad planted him back in the garden, to ensure he gets his nutrients. He still didn’t let Asriel out of his sight, as he had taken to sleeping in a bag in the corner. What good did he think it’ll do, anyways? While it _is_ possible for humans to come through this side of the barrier, there was no case in history when they did.

And in any case, if a human did come here, intent on finishing the job of those villagers from _then_ , nothing dad could do would stop them. Humans were strong, and their willpower was unbreakable, Asriel knew that better than anyone. There was nothing monsters could do in the face of humans except beg for mercy. And humans aren’t going to show them any.

He wasn’t sure when he started sweating and shaking, thinking about those things. But one thing was clear: He had to get away.

There was no better night than tonight. It was a full moon. The moonlight shone above him, its silvery-blue rays illuminating the flowerbed beneath to the point where the yellow flowers almost looked like echo flowers in hue and glow. Flowey could imagine that he looked the same way, which meant he blended into the flowerbed. Tonight was both bright enough for him to see what he was doing, and too dark for Dad to discern it, even if Dad was awake. And judging by those snores, he wasn’t.

Moving without limbs was not a trivial matter. He had to test the boundaries of his control. He _must_ have had the ability to manipulate his stigma, otherwise he would not have been able to talk. He also had, to a lesser degree, some control over his stem. But right now, what he needed was feet.

He wiggled his roots, and sighed in relief when he heard the faint rustle of loose earth. He moved his roots around, extending and contracting, breaking up the dirt and digging himself space beneath.

Once he had carved out a pocket of air and the beginning of several tunnels below the dirt, he stopped. He examined his handiwork with both his eyes and his roots. It was just big enough for him, but it was _dark_.

He knew he shouldn’t dig too wide and too shallow. If he did that, he’d disturb the flowerbeds. Dad would be more likely to catch him in the act, and even if he didn’t, then there would be enough evidence for dad to find out his trail.

But at the same time, going down there now made his stomach lurch. It’s cramped there, and pitch black. What if he chokes to death in there? What if the dirt above him collapsed, leaving him trapped? All alone in the dark, unable to move, unable to scream. It would be like if he dug his own grave.

But... he _had_ to find mom. He had to see her again. And he couldn’t stay here. All he had to do is dive down. He told himself. Take a deep breath, and count down.

But it still took him over an hour to muster up the courage.

 

* * *

 

And so begun his journey, moving with alien means through a familiar path. The more Asriel dug, the more confident he got about moving in plant form, but the less confident he got about his goal. There were only two possible reasons why mom didn’t some back: either she abandoned him, or she is _dead_.

There were few things Asriel hated more than realising that the he was not sure which idea was worse. His past self wouldn’t even wonder about it. He’d want his mom to be happy. And with him being the way he was, perhaps she would be happier without him.

But, with determination he did not expect himself to have, he kept on. Surely, she couldn’t be dead. It isn’t fair. He couldn’t lose her too. He never even got to say goodbye.

And even if she’s abandoned him, he was sure that once he’s back with her, everything will be okay again. Surely, she’ll be able to heal him where dad couldn’t. Mom was smart, she was the smartest person he knew other than Chara. She’ll be able to save him, won’t she?

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

Whenever Flowey felt he didn’t have enough rage to stew in, there was one easy fix: watching Toriel exchange puns with that _smiley trashbag_. So that’s what he decided to do this morning.

Everything about these meetings was awful. From the way that Sans’ smile would grow even larger than that usual passive aggressive smirk he wore, to the way Toriel would giggle like some dumb schoolgirl at his (and even her own) dumb jokes, to the puns themselves. Puns are awful. They aren’t even remotely funny. If he was king, he’d make puns illegal.

It was the first reason he started hated Sans, but now it wasn’t even the main reason. Sans was the absolute _scourge_ of the Underground, always there to ruin his fun.

In any case, considering recent events, with the Human about, he _wanted_ to feel angry. So he took his place behind one of the bushes and eavesdropped as Sans stepped towards the door and knocked.

“knock knock,” said Sans, _while_ knocking. Because that dumb skeleton _had_ to make his point like that.

“Whooo is there?” asked Toriel. Flowey could hear the giggle in her voice.

“sh”

“Sh who?”

“hey, i can’t leave yet, i’ve only just came here!”

Toriel broke into hysterical, howling laughter. Flowey rolled his eyes.

“Okay, okay, let me try,” said Toriel. “Knock knock.”

“who’s there?”

“Ach.” Toriel choked back a giggle.

“ach who?”

“Bless you, Sans.” Toriel broke into laughter again. Flowey noticed that even Sans was affected, as Sans’ chest expanded and contracted more quickly. Flowey scowled.

“oh wow. you got me right in my _funny bone_ ,” said Sans.

“That’s _scapular_! I did not think I would reach it. In fact, I was aiming for your _radius_!”

“you really make my _ribs_ crack, tori.”

“ _Ulna_! Be careful, Sans!”

“hey, there’s no need to be so _sternum_ , tori.”

Toriel broke into another giggling fit. She giggled and giggled while Sans leaned against the door, wearing the widest grin Flowey had ever seen him wear. Flowey rolled his eyes so hard it was making him dizzy.

It took a few moments for Toriel’s giggles to die down, replaced by the occasional cough and wheeze. It took even more time for her to catch her breath. How pathetic.

“well,” said Sans, “did you come up with any more new jokes?”

“No. Unfortunately, I have been a bit busy in the last few days. But it was for a happy reason.”

Flowey would hardly consider the Human’s fall to be _happy_ , and he doubted Sans would. Unless Sans had been counting on Asgore’s dumb plan. But then, Sans’ sort of happiness would not be the sort of happiness Toriel was hoping for. Toriel probably isn’t going to tell that skeleton _anything_ about the Human. She’s a liar like that.

“well, you’ve piqued my curiosity,” said Sans.

“So allow me to sooth it. Sans, I would like to introduce you to, uhh...” Toriel paused for a moment. “...to this child who will be staying with me from now on.”

“Heya!” The Human’s voice rang through the door.

If Flowey could, he would have rubbed his eyes, even though it was technically ~~his ears~~ whichever way he used to register sound that provided the surprise. He took a moment to consider his next course of action.

Going to see the Human now would be risky. On that other side of the door, there was a long, empty corridor. There would be no place to hide. If Toriel caught him... it’d, well... it’d not be good. But on the other hand, he had to see the Human. He had to see how they were reacting to this.

He burrowed in the ground and popped up behind the bend in the corridor. He leaned over the bend to glimpse the Human, and then he wanted to rub his eyes again. It was far away from where he was, but he what he saw was enough to baffle him. Toriel was leaning against the door, looking at it as though she could see through it to Sans. And the Human sat against the door, looking up at Toriel with a smile on their face. But the weird part is, the Human was wearing _Chara’s_ sweater. _Chara’s sweater._

Was that a joke? Were they trying to piss him off? No, that can’t be right. This Human had no idea who Chara is, let alone that he was connected to them in any way. They must have snooped around the place, found this sweater in one of Toriel’s drawers, and decided to wear it as some sort of weird fashion statement.

He could not tear his eyes away. The contrast of Chara’s bright sweater against the Human’s light brown skin looked striking, similar yet different. He shook his head to throw off that unwelcome thought and burrowed in the ground again. He popped up closer to the door and took a closer look at the Human. Fortunately, they did not seem to notice him.

Even through their smiles and soft little giggles, he could see that they had dark circles under their eyes and their skin was pasty. They had definitely gone snooping last night. He doubted they learned anything from it, though. They were an idiot.

It was then that he noticed that Sans and Toriel had resumed their sorry excuse for banter, now with the Human as their audience. He wished he could _un_ notice it.

“-i could feel it in my bones,” said Sans.

Toriel broke into laughter once more, and the Human, too, giggled.

“but anyways, tori,” said Sans, “now that you’re not a _bone_ anymore, let’s invite your kid to join us. if you didn’t tell me they were here, i wouldn’t have known. they barely made a noise.”

The Human frowned for a brief moment and looked up at Toriel.

“Sans,” said Toriel, glancing once at the Human before raising her eyes to the door, “my child is still new around here. I fear they may have had an uneasy night. Perhaps they should not-“

“It’s fine, Miss Toriel,” said the Human. “I don’t mind.” They turned around and sat on their knees facing the door. “Alright, I’m ready.”

“okay then, let’s start with a joke-riddle hybrid,” said Sans. “what do you call an spacey time traveller?”

Flowey smirked. Even the human wasn’t immune to Sans’ little games.

“Umm...” the Human inhaled sharply, “wha-?”

“ _deterred-minded_.”

“Oh.” The Human let out a heavy-breathed chuckle.

Toriel giggled. “Oh Sans! That was not fair. You threw them off with that ‘ _time traveller’_ thing! It was a red herring.”

“sorry,” said Sans, “i kinda prioritised being funny over being fair.”

If Flowey could comment, he would say that Sans was neither. He didn’t know which one Sans was _less_.

“okay, onto my next joke,” said Sans. “what do you say about someone who, alone, carries memories and responsibilities no one else has?”

The Human’s form stiffened. “I-I didn’t-”

“they’re carrying a heavy LOAD,” said Sans.

“Oh. That’s...” The Human let out a chuckle, and then another, and a third. “That’s pretty funny.”

“I do not get it,” said Toriel. “Oh well. I am sure it will come to me soon. Please do not try to explain it to me. I want to be able to fully enjoy this joke once I understand.”

“okay, one last riddle, then,” said Sans. “what word describes your feelings when you are confronted with riddles you can’t solve, and is also used to describe something that the existence of time travel really screws up?”

“I, umm...” said the Human, “I...”

“well?” asked Sans.

“I... I’m not really good with riddles.” The Human scratched their head.

“Tense,” said Toriel. “The answer is ‘ _tense’_.”

“Oh, ha.” The Human let out a sharp breath.

“that was quick. tori, did i ever tell you this joke before?”

“No. But when you made that one time travel joke at the start, I tried to come up with some of my own and started thinking of the word ‘ _tense’_.”

“oh wow, you’re a _natural_ , tori.”

There Sans went again, as smooth and slippery as the ice lakes in Snowdin, and to Flowey, somehow even more unpleasant.

“Thank you, Sans,” said Toriel. Flowey could imagine the blush on her face, but tried not to. “Oh, and, hey.” Toriel  looked down at the Human again. “Do not worry, my child, pun proficiency comes with time.”

“yeah,” said Sans, “and you have plenty of that, i’m sure.”

“I-I guess.” The Human took Toriel’s hand and got on their feet. They glanced at Flowey for a moment, their eyes widening a bit. He sank into the ground and hid behind the corner.

“My child, are you sure you are okay?”

Flowey heard the unmistakeable sound of footsteps. He began lowering into the ground.

“I’m fine, really-“

“Do you wish to lie down?”

“It’s—” their shadow was over the corner. “—fine.”

He pulled himself into the ground as quick as a whip, just as they turned the corner. It was as though he was never there.

 

* * *

 

“Hey Flowey,” said the Human as they stepped into the room with Chara’s grave, holding a piece of pie. “I saw you back there. If you wanted to join, you should hav-“

“I didn’t want to join, why would I,” said Flowey. “Puns are stupid.”

The Human sat beside him and placed the plate on the floor. The light from above, while not shining directly on them, left enough of a hue to accentuate the color contrast of their clothes and skin. It almost looked like they were glowing. From close up, he could see in detail the delicate contours of their face, just like when he first looked at them from close by when they were sleeping. But this time, he could not help but notice the dark circles beneath their eyes.

“Why eavesdropping, then?” asked the Human.

Flowey thought for a moment about how he could respond. But no matter how he tried to word the truth, it ended up sounding stupid. Eventually, he had an idea. “I like watching idiots doing idiot things in their natural habitat! It amuses me.”

“But, uhh... from what I saw of you back there, you didn’t look very amused,” said the Human, “you seemed almost... lost.”

“Well, you look awful too,” said Flowey. “You look like you haven’t slept a week, or like you’re dying of some weird human plague.”

“Yeah...” The Human froze for a moment. “Wait- no! I’m fine, really! I... um... was this really this obvious?”

“Oh boy! You’re completely hopeless. You couldn’t keep a secret to save your life!” Flowey smirked. “So, now that you’ve outed yourself like that, you might as well tell me: why do you look like you’re dying? Are you?”

“No! I just didn’t get much sleep last night. That’s all.”

“That’s it?! Well, then, why couldn’t you sleep? Did you miss your bedtime?”

“I... uh... I was just kind of stressed.”

“What from?”

“Oh, you know, getting used to living here, stuff like-“

“Right! It must be sooo hard to live here when you have someone like Toriel to take care of you,” Flowey rolled his eyes. “It must be so hard to have her make you pie and read you books and tuck you in at night. It’s no wonder you’re stressed.”

“You’re right,” said the Human. “Sorry.” They leaned back on one hand and rubbed their eyes with the other.

Flowey huffed. Why wasn’t the Human doing _anything_ to defend themself? It was like arguing with a wall. A wall that tells bad lies.

“Flowey,” said the Human, “why do you not want to live with Toriel?”

Flowey took a deep breath. A part of him wanted to explode at the Human’s _nerve_ , but he realised that if they really were taunting him, showing any hint of anger or bitterness would just encourage them. So he responded with the next best thing: “Toriel is _stupid_. Did you see how easily she gets amused by puns?”

“What’s so bad about puns? They actually pretty f-“

“Right. _Of course_ you’re the kind of person who likes puns. It’s no wonder you like it there so much.”

“I wish I was good at puns,” said the Human. They placed both hands on their laps. “I really like them. But whenever I try to think of one, I just can’t come up with any.”

“What’s so _great_ about puns, anyways? They’re not funny. They’re so _un_ funny they make me want to do the... um... the opposite of laugh!”

“All jokes become less funny after you’ve already heard them, Flowey.”

“They weren’t even funny they first time!”

“To each their own, I guess.” The Human smiled. “Humor is subjective. Not everyone-“

“No. Puns are _objectively_ not funny. Unleeess...” Flowey extended his stem upwards and upwards until he towered over the Human, engulfing them in his shadow, like a judge over a defendant. “You have an _objectively_ bad taste in humor.”

The Human let out air, put one hand on the ground and one on their lap, and pushed themself up to be on eye level with Flowey again. “Look,” they said, “it’s not like you can _convince_ me to find puns not funny.”

“Oh yeah?” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Well, what if I told you that finding puns funny _stems_ from, has _roots_ in stupidity? To the _corolla_ ry, what if I told you there’s a _stigma_ around puns for a reason? I may not be your _buddy_ , or your se _pal_ ¸ but trust me, there is no such thing as a bad pun, because _aloe_ the puns in the world are bad! Do I need to keep going or do you finally realise—“ He opened his eyes and looked directly ahead, but the Human was no longer in front of him.

He blinked. His breath hitched. “Hey— where did you—“ He heard the sound of short, sharp breaths from below. “—go?!” He looked down.

The Human was curled up on the floor, one arm around their stomach and the other hand on their face. They were shaking. Wow, he didn’t know awful puns had _that_ much of an effect on them. But at least he had found a kindred spirit.

And then the Human let out howl so loud it must have taken up their entire two lungs. They weren’t in pain. They were _laughing_.

Now he could hear it clearly: They were sucking in their every breath, only to lose it a moment after to howls and sharp exhalations. The hand that held their mouth fell to their stomach and they could not hold the sounds back anymore. Their laughter filled the room, possibly even reaching the rest of the Ruins.

Flowey stared at them with blank eyes. “That wasn’t even funny...” He kept staring as they rolled back and forth. He wanted to say something else, several things, actually, but the more time passed, the more their laughter calmed down. And once it ceased to be loud, he realised that it was actually quite pleasant. Their laughter was like the sound of bells in his ears.

He shrunk his stem down to his regular level as the Human’s laughter gave way to loud, heavy breathing. From close up, he could see the tears at the side of their eyes from laughing so much. The Human relaxed their muscles, and laid splayed on the floor.

They turned their head to him, “thank you. That was hilarious.”

“No it wasn’t,” he said, “that wasn’t even remotely-“

“How did you do that? How do you make puns like that?” The Human propped themself up on their elbows.

“Back before I- back in a previous timeline, I used to know Sans, personally, like we were friends.” He looked to the side. “Don’t get me wrong though. We weren’t actually friends.” His face fell. “I was just pretending. I can’t _not_ pretend.”

The Human’s eyes softened. “I’m sor-“

“-And anyways, he used to make flower-based puns to me _all the time_. And even back then, I hated that.” Flowey shot the Human a stern look. “So I decided to learn to make puns so I can beat him to the punch-“

“-Don’t you mean, beat him to the _pun_?” The Human beamed at their own joke.

“No.” Flowey glared at them. “I _mean_ , beat him to the punch.”

“But how are you so good at it?”

“I went through the dictionary, and looked for all the flower-related words I could find. Then, I made a big list and then looked for similar words.”

The Human frowned. “No wonder you don’t like puns. That’s the _systematic_ approach to punmaking. It takes all the fun out of it.”

“It’s no big loss.” Flowey scoffed. “I never found puns _fun_ to begin with.”

“Still though,” said the Human. “puns are kind of a petty reason to not want to live with Toriel. I mean, she didn’t _force_ me to be a part of that joke meeting with Sans. She wouldn’t force you either.“

“But puns aren’t even the biggest reason why Toriel is _stupid_!”

“What is, then?”

“Did you know that Toriel used to be the queen of all monsters?”

The Human shook their head, but Flowey noticed it was a bit too quickly and too wildly as their hair swung and slapped against their cheeks.

“Well, she used to be the queen of all monsters. But then she just left it all behind!” Flowey huffed. “She abandoned her husband and her kingdom just so she can play house with a bunch of humans. And humans don’t even fall here that often! And you know what’s the dumbest thing here is?” He extended his stem so his face met theirs. “Up until you came along, all the humans that fell here ended up leaving _her_!”

“But she left because-“ The Human stopped. “Umm- why did Toriel leave the throne?”

“The king declared war on humanity because their—Toriel and the king’s—children died.”

“Then she left because she wanted to do the right thing,” said the Human. “That’s not _stupid_.”

Flowey huffed. “She’s not a good person, either.”

“Why not?”

“She keeps pretending she loves people when she doesn’t.”

The Human dropped their gaze.

“She’s fake, and stupid,” said Flowey.

“Why are you saying she doesn’t love people? She- she doesn’t seem like-“

“Did you know, that she used to treat her and the king’s children- Chara and Asriel- just like she’s treating you? That she pretended to love them too?”

“She might have loved them for real.” The Human sat up and pulled their legs to their chest.

“No, she didn’t. You didn’t even know their names until I told you. She’s forgotten all about them when another human child came along, and then forgotten all about _that_ child as soon as another human child came along. And she repeated this six times and—“ Flowey smirked. “—and now she has you!”

“I don’t agree with that.”

“What, did you really think she loves you? After a grand total of three days knowing you? Are you really this stupid?”

“I think she loved Chara and Asriel more than anything.” The Human rested their cheek on their knees and looked at Flowey. “And this is how she mourns them.”

“Well, you’re wrong.” He drooped his head. “I knew Toriel for much longer than you do and I _know_ she didn’t love them.”

The Human rested their chin in the shallow pit between their knees and looked away from him into the emptiness ahead.

Flowey remembered the first time he saw Toriel after his reincarnation. He reached the Ruins during one of her bouts with Sans, and even then the sight of it made a pit form inside him. She was giggling and laughing at that skeleton’s jokes like nothing else mattered while Asgore spent his days wallowing in anxiety and despair.

But what was worse was, that that was the last time he saw her genuinely smile in that timeline. As soon as he introduced himself to her, the light had gone out of her eyes, and her smiles turned forced and broken.

In hindsight, he wasn’t sure why he ever thought she’d be happy to see him back. In the past, whereas dad seemed to think that he’d end up _stumbling_ into being a good ruler, mom was full of expectations. She always expected him to be better. A better mage, more powerful, more skilled. A better student, smarter and quicker and more diligent. A better prince, kinder, better behaved, more polite, more confident, more charismatic. She wanted him to be _more like Chara_.

But now he couldn’t even be a child properly.

He told himself that he shouldn’t care anymore. It’s Toriel who is stupid, not him. At least he knew her true face now.

“That’s the thing about Toriel,” he said. “She wants to have a husband and children. I don’t know why. It probably makes her feel better about herself. But once she has them, she doesn’t really love them. She doesn’t care _who_ they are.”

“I still don’t agree with you.” The Human rested their cheek on their knees and looked at him again.

“It’s true!” He made his creepy face.

Although the Human still faced him, their eyes strayed away.

“You know,” he said. “I’ve been reading about kings in human history. It made for a really interesting read. In particular, I’ve read about this one human king who had like six wives and ended up—“ He made his creepy face. “—killing them all.”

“You mean Henry VIII, right?” The Human glanced at him, and then their eyes fell to the floor. “He actually only killed _two_ of them.”

“So maybe I didn’t mean Henry VIII then!” He did, but the Human didn’t need to know that. “It’s you who doesn’t know anything about their own history!”

“...Right.”

“In any case, two is still two more than the king of monsters could do.”

The Human buried their face in their knees.

“Sometimes, I wish that...“ Here he goes. He’s finally going to say something that will set the Human off. Something that will make the Human proclaim just how awful and creepy and messed up he is. Something that will get a reaction from the Human rather than false sympathy or tired resignation. “...I wish that the king was more like a human king. I wish he had the guts to get back at Toriel for what she did.”

The Human’s head snapped back up. They stared at Flowey with wide eyes. “You don’t mean that!”

“Hee hee hee, I hit a nerve, hadn’t I?” He smirked. “But I do mean that. I never meant anything more than that in my life! If only he had the guts, Toriel and Sans would be dust. And we’d all be free.”

The Human buried their face in their knees again.

“But then again, that’s not just a problem with the king. That’s a problem with the entire monster race.” He thought of Chara’s words from back then. They were right, as always. “It’s why we got trapped down here. It’s not just that monsters are physically weak. They’re all weak to their very core.” He wasn’t sure why his eyes felt wet now. “Even if they had all the power in the world, they still wouldn’t have the guts to use it.” He, himself, for instance, didn’t. “And this is our punishment for that.” It made sense, he embodied that weakness more than anyone else, and was thus punished for it more than anyone else. He should stop feeling sorry for himself. He blinked his tears away.

“No, no...” The Human lifted their head again. “It isn’t weakness. Not wanting to hurt people isn’t weakness. It’s not the monsters’ fault they got trapped down here. And Asgore isn’t a weak person for not hurting Toriel!” Their eyes were glossy.

Flowey was about to argue with the Human when he noticed: He never mentioned Asgore’s name, had he?

“Asgore is- he’s a good person! That’s why he let Toriel go,” said the Human.

Flowey snorted. “You know that if Asgore ever met you, he’ll kill you in a heartbeat, right? You know that he started a war against humanity. You know that he’ll kill you _all_ if he ever got his hands on your soul.”

“I-I know, but-“

“How then? How do you know?”

The Human froze. “What-“

“How do you know the king’s name? How do you know his plans?”

“I, uhh... you told me?”

“I think,” Flowey slithered around the Human’s back, forming a circle around the Human with his vines. “that this isn’t the first time you’ve fell down here.”

“I...”

“You fell down here before, but then you reset, right?”

“I... yes.”

Well, that was easy. The ease with which he managed to draw this confession from them wasn’t ideal. The ideal would have been a long, epic battle of wits where he outsmarted them at every step to force a confession from them no matter how hard they try to deny the truth. But it was good enough, now he could move on to the next part.

“Ha! I knew it,” he said. A smirk crept up his face. ”So, what did you do in the last timeline? Did you kill anyone? Did you kill _everyone_?”

“No! No.” The Human shook their head and waved their hands in front of them. “Nothing like that!”

“I don’t believe you~” Flowey scanned the Human’s face. Their eyes were wide and their mouth slack jawed. _Shock and surprise_. But nothing that would show they were lying. “Okay, fine. Maybe I do. But only because you have no reason to lie now.”

The Human let out a sigh of relief.

“So,” said Flowey, “how did you do it? how did you delete my memories?”

“I... uh... I’m not sure. I actually thought that you were the one who deleted them.“

“Me?” His face scrunched up. “Why the _hell_ would I do that?!”

“A... umm... a lot of _stuff_ happened last timeline.”

“Huh.” Flowey huffed. “And you’re not going to tell me any of that _stuff_.”

“No. Sorry.”

Flowey’s eyes narrowed for a brief moment, before a smirk broke through once more. “No wonder you were so awkward around Sans.”

“Yeah. He tends to notice these kinds of things. You can’t keep anything from him.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, he doesn’t actually remembers former timelines.” Which was good, because that’s the only thing that could possibly make Sans even more unbearable. “He certainly knows too much, and he has a lot of tricks and stuff that lets him pretend that he remembers more than he does. But don’t let that fool you.” He made his creepy face. “That skeleton is just a pawn, just like everyone else here.”

“That’s... comforting.”

“Oh, don’t get pleased with yourself just yet.” Flowey extended his stem, bringing his face closer and closer to the Human’s. “Sans might not know all the details of what you did, but make no mistake. He _hates_ you.”

“I wouldn’t say hate, just-“

“Sans _hates_ people like us. And why wouldn’t he? People like _us_ render people like _him_ completely helpless! Everyone’s fates are in our hands. This _world_ is at our _mercy_!”

“I g-guess... but it’s not _that_ bad. I-I mean, if people like us _show_ the world mercy, then-“

“Oh, but it’s in our nature _not_ to. That’s what we do, we _toy_ with this world. And before you try to deny it, just remember: you’ve reset too. You did your fair share of playing god.”

The Human dropped their eyes. “I know.”

“Good.” He actually hoped the Human would put up more of a fight. Try to justify themself. But he supposed that at the very least, it was good that they dropped that self righteous act. “You know, I was actually about to ask you why you don’t try to save, exit the Ruins and then reload and come back. But if you already did that, then I guess you might be smarter than I gave you credit for.”

“...Thanks.” They didn’t sound grateful. They sounded weary. They pressed their forehead to their forearm and hid their face behind their knees once more.

Well, that’s everything he was going to get out of them, for now anyways. In due time, he’ll find a way to figure out _all_ their secrets, everything they did, everything they’ve learned.

But if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that no matter the _stuff_ that happened last timeline, his secrets were safe. He’d _never_ be the kind of _idiot_ who goes and spills his life story to a complete stranger, no matter how charming or friendly they are.

“Hey,” said Flowey, “you still haven’t said anything about this pie you’ve brought.”

“Oh yeah...” The Human perked up. They pushed their knees down and rotated themself so that he was in front of them. “It’s for you.”

Flowey leaned over the plate and licked the cream on the pie.

“I hope you like it,” said the Human. “Toriel let me help her this time.”

Flowey froze, his tongue still buried in the cream. A part of him wanted to spit it out to spite the Human. But then the taste melted into his tongue. He took a small bite.

“So, umm... did you like it?”

He gulped down that bite. “It doesn’t really taste the same...”

The Human’s face fell. “Huh... well, it’s fine if you don’t wan-“

“No.” He devoured the rest of the pie with one bite. “Next time, bring more.”

The Human smiled.


	6. Feel No Pain

Toriel and the Human’s stride was quick when he noticed them. So quick, in fact, that he struggled to keep up at first. But at least it meant that they didn’t notice when he started following them.

“My child, are you sure you are ready to take on this kind of responsibility? Starting work at _your_ age, and well, without even _paying_ you, it is... well... it is the sort of thing only people like _them_ would do,” said Toriel. Flowey could see her hand tightening around the Human’s hand, and her other hand tightening on the strap of her bag.

“It’s fine,” said the Human. They were still wearing Chara’s sweater. The net of their butterfly net bounced and swayed as they took big, springing steps to keep up with her. “The spiders aren’t going to work me too hard. I’m basically volunteering for them.”

Toriel furrowed her eyebrows. Flowey smirked. Despite her oh so holier-than-thou nature, Toriel could never quite hide her distaste for spiders.

Toriel kept walking. Her every step forceful. She lead the Human through corridors upon corridors. Turning corners. Slipping into hidden passages. Until she finally reached her destination: a hidden little garden at the Ruins’ edge.

This place was another place in the Underground where you could see glimpses of the sun. But it was nowhere near as bright as Chara’s grave or Asgore’s throne room. A canopy of  leaves, branches and roots  covered the ceiling. Most of that plant matter was outside the barrier, so it could not be cleared. But nonetheless, enough sunlight broke through to allow wild plant life from the surface to grow.

This was Toriel’s favourite bug hunting spot.

Toriel let go of the Human’s hand and reached for her bag. She pulled out a blanket and spread it on the floor in the shadows. “My child, you may start now. I will instruct you from here. When you feel tired, you may take a break.” She sat down and took a paper-wrapped sandwich out her bag. “We will have lunch here.”

The Human’s face brightened. “Okay.” They gripped the handle of their butterfly net with both hands and widened their stance, ready to lunge or run at any bugs nearby.

“Good. Now, my child, the keys to hunting bugs is _patience, perception_ , and _caution_ ,” said Toriel. “Examine this room. Can you see any bugs on the walls? Or on the plants? Can you see any bugs flying in the air?”

The Human squinted at the dark walls. Then, their eyes widened. Their voice boomed across the room, “Found one!”

“Splendid, my child. But next time, be quieter. You do not want to scare them away.” Toriel smoothened the wrinkles in her dress over her lap. “Now, try approaching the bug, and like I said: be quiet.”

Moving on the tips of their toes, as fluid as water, the Human drew near to the bug on the wall. They stood a meter away from it and rotated their grip on the handle, their eyes centred on the small creature.

The Human closed their eyes as they swung. They slammed the hoop of their butterfly net on the wall. Flowey smirked as he saw the bug flying away.

The Human opened their eyes and saw the bug net empty.

 Toriel shook her head. “That was... not bad. For a first attempt,” she said. “Next time, I suggest that you use less sudden movements. Slow and steady, only quick in the final moment of capture.”

“ I... uh... I thought that was the final moment...” said the Human.

“Be _extra_ careful next time. Ensure that both you and the bug are in position before you strike.”

The Human turned around and scanned the room again, looking for bugs. Their eyes focused on a bug which fluttered beneath one of the rays of light. They snuck near, positioned themself by the bug’s path, swung... and missed. Their swing was too wild and too wide. It was an amateur’s mistake. Which made sense, Flowey reasoned. The Human _was_ a complete amateur.

Toriel let out a tired chuckle. “My child, you have gotten rusty.”

The Human stiffened. “Sorry.”

“All you need to do is concentrate, and you shall succeed.”

“R-right.” The Human scanned the room for bugs again, and noticed one zipping through the shadows. Had Flowey felt charitable towards the Human, he would have called it a great feat of perception. But he didn’t feel charitable that day, so he didn’t.

He didn’t want the Human to succeed at this. He didn’t want to watch Toriel shower them with praise and adoration like she loved them. That was his least favourite thing. Not just about the Human, but in general.

Bug hunting is difficult. It’s hard work. It could be fun, sometimes, but it’s usually the kind of thing you do to build character. To learn how to keep going despite encountering failure. To develop within yourself the determination you’d need when you become king. The Human shouldn’t be good at this like he and Chara were after months of practice. Not unless they practiced last timeline, and he doubted they did. They were already absurdly good at _everything else._ It wouldn’t be fair.

The Human was upon the bug now. Both of them in the shadowed part of the room, well away from the sun. And in fact, even the sun wasn’t as bright right now, because a cloud drifted over the hole and blocked out the light. But the Human’s eyes still fixated on the bug, as though it stood out like candlelight in the dark.

Flowey had an idea. Positioning himself such that he’s out of Toriel’s view, and on the corner of the Human’s view, he popped out of the ground. He bounced and swayed, as though waving to the Human, daring them to look.

To his joy, the Human’s eyes flickered towards him for a moment, before going back to the bug. Sweat formed on the Human’s forehead. He swung and waved harder. His every movement yelled at the Human ‘ _hey! Look at me!’_

The Human took another step towards the bug, their grip on the net tightened. They hoisted the net above their shoulder and prepared to swing.

He popped out right in front of them, still out of Toriel’s view.  The net made a whooshing sound as it flew through the air, catching nothing.

“Chara!” said Toriel, “Stop playing around!”

The Human’s face fell. Flowey blew them a raspberry and burrowed in the ground.

“Sorry,” said the Human.

“What were you doing?”

“I... I tried to catch that big bug.” They pointed at the bug’s general direction. “But I got distracted. I’m sorry.”

Toriel huffed. Huh, he never seen her this impatient before, or this unapologetic. Did she not realise? “Well. Do not get distracted again. I have specifically chosen this place because it lacks distractions,” she said.

Clutching the net to their chest, the Human nodded.

It was then that Flowey noticed a butterfly fluttering from ones of the holes above. Its white wings almost blinding under the sun’s rays. The butterfly hovered down and down, as though descending down a staircase of sunlight into the Underground. It lowered itself onto the leaves of a short bush. How dumb of it.

Butterflies that come down to the Underground are the only creatures that are even more screwed than humans. The barrier would allow them to get in, but as their souls were so weak, it would never allow them out. Chara had once told him why wild butterflies rarely survived down here: butterflies needed heat, and thus, sunlight. While monster magic kept the Underground well lit, it wasn’t as warm as sunlight. Any butterfly that comes down here is doomed to spend the rest of its short life cold and dark.

And _this_ butterfly was especially screwed, because now the Human noticed it, too.

“Miss Toriel,” said the Human, “would it be okay to try to catch this butterfly?”

The tone of Toriel’s voice was cold and flat. “Yes. You may. Butterflies are an easy bug to catch, so it _might_ be good practice for you.”

The Human’s eyes grew sadder for a moment as they focused on the butterfly.

He wondered why they bothered. He could interrupt them again, if he wanted. But this time, he decided not to intervene. He made his point. Now it was time for the Human to fail all on their own.

The Human let the rod of the butterfly net lay on their shoulder as they drew close to the butterfly. Their every move calculated , precise, but not sudden. The butterfly, on the other hand, faltered in its flight, growing lethargic at it fluttered away from the sunlight and into the shadows. The butterfly net whipped through the air as, with one smooth motion, the human brought it down on the butterfly.

Toriel slapped her hands together in a single clap. A smile found its way onto her face. “Splendid, my child. Now, let me take a closer look at it.”

The Human smiled. Flowey hid deeper in the shadows as Toriel made her way to them. She placed a hand on their shoulder as she examined the butterfly through the little holes in the net.

“What do you think?” asked the Human.

“It is beautiful, my child,” she said. “Now, reach in and hold it out for me.”

The Human’s smile melted. “I don’t want to hurt it...”

What a hypocrite. They had no compunction against catching any of those icky, _ugly_ bugs. But now when a pretty butterfly is on the line, they start being all self-righteous? He couldn’t wait until he got the chance to rub it in their face.

“Ah, my child, there is no need to worry,” said Toriel. “Bugs like these can feel no pain, do you remember? You were the one who told me.”

The Human dropped their head to the ground.

“Now, come on, my child, I would like to look.”

The Human reached in and groped for the butterfly. Flowey could not see it in detail, as he was too far, but with the way the Human struggled to pull the butterfly out, he guessed that they could not hold it with the gentleness they probably would have liked. His guesses where proven right as the Human pulled the butterfly out, holding it by its wings.

“Yes,” said Toriel, “this butterfly is, indeed, very beautiful.” She rubbed their shoulder.

The Human cupped the hand that was not holding the butterfly and dropped the butterfly onto it. They stared with sad eyes at the little creature with the crumpled wings.

“Good, good,” said Toriel. “Unfortunately, butterflies have little to no use. So you may set this one free.”

“Okay...” The Human dropped to their knees and lowered the butterfly onto a leaf on a nearby shrub. What an idiot. Didn’t they realise that they were only delaying the inevitable? This butterfly isn’t going to stand a chance. It’ll probably get eaten alive by one of the bugs here or by some other small animal. Chara was right again: nature isn’t as cruel as humanity, but it’s still very cruel.

Cruelty is the natural order of things. People who try to be anything else are lying, not just to the people around them, but to themself and their innate nature, too.

“Now, my child, it is time for your lesson,” said Toriel.

“Huh? I thought I finished my schoolwork for the day,” said the Human.

“Well, yes. You finished the written tasks I set you. But not all learning is done through books, my child. If you wish to learn magic, there is no substitute for practice.”

The Human’s face lit up, and Flowey understood why: practical magic lessons were his and Chara’s favourites, too. Certainly beats crouching over some dusty tomes Toriel dug up. Even after becoming a flower, having her teach him magic like that was fun.

Though admittedly, in his later timelines, he wanted to learn magic for reasons he doubted she’d approve of.

“Now, focus your mana in the palm of your hand, my child,” said Toriel. “Imagine the energy building up. Heat and light drawn from your surroundings, sucked into your hand like water into a drain. And then, a magnificent flame alighting in your hands.”

The Human closed their eyes and held a hand out, cupping it to prepare for the flame. Their breaths became deeper as their demeanour relaxed. They were probably envisioning Toriel’s words in their mind now.

They stood there, and kept standing for several minutes. But their hands showed not even a speck of a flame. Toriel cleared her throat.

“This should not take so long,” she said.

The Human opened their eyes. Their cheery demeanour turned hurt and confused. “I don’t get it. I tried doing like you said, and-“

“Try again, from the beginning.”

The Human closed their eyes and extended their hand out again. Their face scrunched and relaxed over and over, as they were probably alternating between trying to summon magic by focusing on her instructions and trying to summon magic by relaxing their mind. It made them look _stupid_.

Nothing happened.

“Let us-“ Toriel kept her breathing controlled, but her words still came out with more force than she probably intended. “-let us try doing this together.”

She kneeled down and cupped the Human’s hands in hers. Like she did with him when she taught him his first magic spell when he was barely more than a toddler. And like she did with Chara. If the Human has any magic inside them at all, then it should work.

All he could do was pray that it wouldn’t.

“Do you think it would work?” asked the Human.

“I know it will. Through touch, I can transfer mana to you,” said Toriel, “now close your eyes and focus again.”

The Human closed their eyes. Their entire body relaxed. Even their hands opened up until the backs of their hands rested in Toriel’s palms. Toriel, on the other hand, glared at their hands. A few minutes passed and still nothing.

Toriel took a deep breath. And then the Human’s palms burst into flames.  Flowey let out a huff.

The Human opened their eyes wide and grinned. “Wow, it’s-it’s amazing! I didn’t know I-I could-“

“No,” said Toriel. The fire disappeared as she withdrew her hands. “That was me. That was my fire. I summoned one on accident.”

He snorted. But then his eyes fell on the Human’s face.

“I’m sorry,” said the Human. They dropped their hands and looked down. “I...I don’t think I can do it.”

“Do not say that!” said Toriel. “You just need to focus. This is not difficult, my child.”

“I-I mean, I don’t _mind_ trying again, it’s just that I don’t think I can do-“

“Yes, you can.” Toriel’s tone was more forceful than reassuring. “You _can_ do magic! I _know_ you can!”

The Human fiddled with the hem of their sweater and said nothing. Flowey stared at their downcast face, unable to tear his eyes. And for a moment, he felt even emptier than usual.

“This is- this is-“ Toriel took a deep breath. “I _saw_ you do magic before. You just need more practice. And more rest.” She stood up. “I am afraid that I cannot allow you to work in the spider shop. Not if it affects your studies.”

“B-but—“

“Your education, and your health, takes precedence, my child. And you clearly need some rest.” She dusted her robe off and turned away from the Human. “We should go home now, where we shall also have our lunch. Your lessons are done for the day, but tomorrow, I expect you to do better. Now help me pack up.”

Toriel and the Human packed up their stuff in silence. Toriel shoved sandwiches back into the bag while the Human folded the blanket by throwing it over their forearm and rolling it up. The entire time the two of them have been packing, the Human did not lift their head, not even once. But from what little Flowey could see of their face, it was red and puffy.

The Human didn’t even look back at him when they left, trailing behind Toriel like a lost puppy.

Flowey stood rooted in place as he tried to convince himself that the odd, empty feeling inside him stemmed from a sense of smug satisfaction.

 

* * *

 

He wanted to keep watching them as they went back to the house. But Toriel was especially vigilant after that meeting, guarding the Human like a cat surrounding and entrapping a mouse. So, reluctant to catch another fireball to the face, Flowey decided to retire to Chara’s grave early that afternoon.

It wasn’t a big deal, though. Once he learns Toriel’s new habits and routines, he’ll be able to go prowling Toriel’s house again in no time.

And he didn't feel like watching the Human today, anyways. Not when they’re being so passive and depressing all the time. What happened to the determination that usurped his own?

He stood by the flowerbed and enjoyed what little sunlight extended beyond the flowerbed itself, stretching out his stem and leaves. He still had an hour or so of sunlight to enjoy, he better not waste it. He closed his eyes, enjoying the heat on his face and the bright orange inside his eyelids.

And then, bright light, and every shade of the rainbow overtook him. He sunk. _He was no longer empty, to the contrary, he was completely full, overflowing, even. He laughed with a voice that would usually take all his effort to muster. Nothing could stop him, especially not them. Tears streamed down his face, what was that feeling? His feet met the ground and his sleeve his eyes. It was agonising, he never felt anything like this before. Everything came back to him all at once and he could not ignore it anymore. He could not ignore the cries from inside him anymore, or the yearning._

_His feet left the ground again, and he focused his efforts. His power built up inside him more and more like a balloon, and then exploded, leaving him empty once more. He struggled not to cry again, holding on to that little scrap of feeling. He had to be strong, even with what’s ahead. Even if he no longer had a future to imagine._

_Warm arms engulfed him. A whisper in his ears: ‘it’s okay’. Such undeserved kindness. He could not hold back. He hugged them back, and squeezed and squeezed as they rubbed his shoulder. This is the last hug he’ll ever get. This is the last time he’ll feel this kind of warmth again._

_He didn’t want to let go._

“Flowey? Are you there?”

He was startled awake. The Human just had to show up, figures. He turned around to sneer at them and noticed they were wearing a cloak whose hood covered their face.

“Man, you really screwed up that lesson, haven’t you,” he said. “Whaddaya know. It turns out there are _downsides_ to living with that hag.”

The Human pushed the cloak off their head. Flowey tried not to notice the way it ruffled their hair.

“It, uhh... it isn’t all bad,” said the Human. “B-but yeah. I need to fix that. So... can I ask you something?”

“You already asked me something, idiot. Get to the point.”

“Could you, uh, teach me magic?”

He snorted. “Why should I do that? What if I _like_ watching you flail around and make a fool of yourself?”

“I... uh...” The Human closed their eyes and took a deep breath. “If you teach me magic, I’ll tell you a bit of that _stuff_ that happened last timeline.”

Flowey narrowed his eyes. “How do I know you’ll tell me the truth.”

“Well, it’s not like you have any other way of finding that _stuff_ out. And, well, we both know I’m no good at lying.”

“You... have a point.” He couldn’t help but take the bait. “You _are_ absolutely terrible at lying.” He’ll never pass up an opportunity to rib at them. It was just too satisfying.

“So, um, will you?”

“Okay, okay, fine.” He smirked. Everything was working out for him. He didn’t even have to scheme over how to get that information. “Okay, now, you should have enough mana from Toriel’s lesson so relax, clear up your mind, and try to imagine stuff floating above your head.”

The Human closed their eyes for a moment, and then frowned. “Umm... what should I-“

“See, that’s why you’re so bad at magic.” He scoffed. “Just imagine anything you could use as a projectile. Imagine it. See it in your mind’s eye. All the little details of it.”

“O-okay...” the Human’s face tightened up.

“Okay,” he said, “now,” He summoned friendliness pellets above their head. “Let it all out! Let it go and explode-!“ he launched the friendliness pellets at the walls beside and behind the Human, causing a thundering boom as they all slammed against the walls. The Human  shook in place but kept their eyes shut. “-with everything you have!”

The Human squinted, and then opened their eyes. They looked behind them at the smouldering holes in the walls.

“See! It’s cool, it’s really really cool,” said Flowey, puffing his stem out.

“Yeah.” They turned back to look at him”... but, uh... could you keep the noise down?”

Flowey snorted. “What’s the matter? Afraid of loud noises?”

“No, it’s just that... uhh... I’m not supposed to be here.”

“What do you- oh. Ohhh!” Flowey smirked. “Toriel wouldn’t let you, would she.”

“No...” The Human cringed.

“You’ve snuck out. That must be why you’re wearing that old cloak.” Flowey frowned. “You idiot! This cloak doesn’t make you invisible. It just _hides_ your identity. There is literally no one else in the Ruins with your size and build!”

“Yeah... I guess...” The Human twirled the sides of their cloak. “It does look cool though.”

“Right.” Flowey rolled his eyes. “A cool cloak for an uncool person.”

“I guess.” The Human dropped their hands to their side, their face downcast. Flowey ignored the pang inside him. “Umm... thanks for that demonstration, but...” The Human scratched their head. “I’m not sure what I learned from that?”

Flowey huffed. If they didn’t feel that they learned anything they might renege on their deal. “You try that now! I told you what to do and how to do it, so you can’t say I didn’t try to teach you.”

“Right.” The Human closed their eyes and scrunched their face, focusing on their instruction. A few moments passed, them focused on the spell, him focused on their face. But nothing happened.

“It still doesn’t work, huh,” said Flowey. “Okay. Try to imagine just _one_ thing. _One_ projectile.”It shouldn’t be necessary. It wasn’t necessary for Chara. But apparently _this_ Human was especially slow.

“Yeah.” The Human opened their eyes and took a deep breath. “That sounds like a good idea.”

A few more minutes of focus have passed. And still, nothing happened. Eventually, Flowey had had enough.

“You really can’t do that? You can’t even do the most basic magic even when a boss monster has supplied you with mana? Say, did you ever manage to do magic in any of your _past_ timelines?” he asked.

The Human opened their eyes, which were soft and pained. “I... uh... I tried to, once or twice, but I couldn’t do it. I didn’t have time to train, though, so I thought that if I did, eventually I’ll be able to-“

“You won’t.” He smirked. “You have less magical talent than the average brick!”

The Human’s eyes glistened. “I-I won’t be able to do magic? Ever?”

“Nope! You just don’t have magic.”

“B-but... how come? I-I mean, I have a human soul. And those are supposed to be really str-”

“I read about it in some old book. Y’see, there’s power, and then there’s the ability to _channel_ that power.  Monsters may be weak, but they can channel _all_ their power by default. It’s like breathing for us. But with humans, it’s not like that. Humans have a lot of power, but power’s no good unless you can channel it. Some humans can. Others, like you, can’t.”

“Oh.”

“And that’s not all; even humans who are talented at magic can’t channel it like monsters can. Magic training is, for monsters, like learning a martial art when you’re already really strong. Magic training for humans, however, is like weightlifting.” The analogy made him think of the intense few training sessions he had with Undyne in his earlier timelines, he shuddered and diverted his thoughts by resuming. “It’s making yourself stronger by bringing your muscles to their fullest potential. But even if you’re stronger, you still won’t have that expertise monsters have. That’s why monsters with human souls are stronger even than human magicians!” And that was also one of the reasons why Chara wanted him to take their soul, no matter how good they were at magic. The thought dampened his mood.

“Oh...” The Human stared at him with empty eyes.

Flowey huffed.

_Wow Flowey,_ he wanted them to say. _You’re really smart and knowledgeable and cool. I’m really sorry I was so condescending before. I wish I could have been like you._

But the Human didn’t even say thank you.

“Well,” he said, “in any case, I can’t teach you magic. But you still wasted my time. So! You still owe me info-“

“My child! Are you there?”

Toriel’s voice caused the Human to freeze for a moment, before their shoulders slumped in despair again. They did not move as she stepped into the room.

“My child,” said Toriel, “not only do you leave without my permission, but you also go and see _him_ , of all people. What were you _even_ doing here?”

The Human dropped their head as Toriel made her way to them. Her eyes were focused on Flowey, and he could see the fire forming in her hand.  The Human tensed as she placed her other hand on their shoulder.

“Do you think this is in any way conductive to your studies, my child? To put yourself in danger, to stress and tire yourself?” she asked.

Flowey’s face burned. Did she really think that it was _his_ fault?

“Well, for your information,” said Flowey, “they wanted to learn _magic_ from me. Maybe if you weren’t such a terrible teacher, they wouldn’t have needed to.”

Toriel’s gaze wandered to him for a moment, eyes cold and face stony. Before going back to the Human. She let out a tired chuckle.

“My child,” she said, “you do not need to have lessons with someone like _him_ to succeed. What you need is rest and practice under my supervision.” She reached down and grabbed their hand. “I have made a decision. Until you can catch up, you are to stay in our house and not leave by yourself any more.”

The Human lifted their head up and looked at Toriel with wide eyes.

“This is for your own good,” she said. “Now come, we shall go home.”

The Human said nothing as Toriel dragged them away by their arm like a child dragging behind a ragdoll. Flowey felt a pang inside again as the sound of her footsteps grew fainter and fainter.

He went back to the sunlight, trying to take advantage of what little time he had left, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t. He kept thinking of the Human’s face no matter how hard he tried not to. He tried to think about what bothered him and then it hit him.

The Human still hadn’t told him about the _stuff_!


	7. A Pale Imitation

Toriel guarded the Human all evening with even more vigilance than before. She made them sit in the kitchen as she cooked dinner so she can stop them from escaping again. And when they ate, she watched them with such intensity that Flowey wondered how _she_ remembered to eat. It wasn’t even as though the Human resisted her. When she made them sit in the kitchen, they brought a book which they tried to read. But he noticed that they remained on the same page the whole time. And when they had dinner, the Human brought the spoon to their mouth, chewed and swallowed, like a production line. Even as Toriel’s gaze made them shift and shrink.

It pissed him off. Toriel was _punishing_ them, and trying to mask that in concern. He _hated_ when she did that. Why was the Human being such a pushover? So passive and weak? They had no problem standing up to _him_.

Oh, and it also kept him from being able to confront the Human about the _stuff_. That was the most annoying thing about all this, he told himself.

She finally let off when she sent them to bed, but even then, she made her feelings clear with a cold _‘goodnight’_ and a lock on their door.

He watched her as she paced by the door like a prison guard. Trying to listen out for either the sound of them getting out of bed or him rustling through the floor (Did she figure out what he capable of? About time). But neither of them were that stupid.

When she finally left, headed to the living room for some nightly reading, it was time to make his move.

He sunk into the floor and popped back up right by their bed, elevating himself so that he would be on their level.

The Humans laid on their stomach, hugging their pillow tight to their face. He began considering how to wake them up without alerting Toriel, and then he noticed that they were shivering. The Human wasn’t asleep, they were awake, and crying.

Wow, he didn’t realise that not being able to do magic disappointed them that much. If he knew, he would have... He would have taunted them about it! Yeah, _that’s_ what he would have done. It’s what he _should_ do now.

He started thinking about what he should say.  Maybe something like _Ha ha, you can’t do magic. You’re weak, weaker than even the weakest monster!_

No. Ironically enough, _that_ _insult_ was weak. He should think of a better insult.

He noticed the Human stopped shivering, but they didn’t relax. Instead, they seemed even tenser than before. Their head shifted to the point where they could probably see him from the corner of their eye.

Darn, they noticed him. He lost his element of surprise.

Still, knowing that pain is coming often does little to dull it. The anticipation serves to make it even worse. He’d know. He knew a lot about pain.

And he had no doubt that the Human knew exactly what they could expect him to say. They weren’t stupid.

He kept wracking his brain for insults, but the more he thought about it, the emptier he felt about saying anything insulting. Maybe he should leave them to their own misery. Completely alone, they would suffer even more.

He still felt empty.

He swallowed his saliva and cleared his throat. And wondered what he should do. His mouth opened on its own.

“You know,” he said, “the fact that you can’t use magic is... it isn’t really your fault.”

The Human whipped their head from their pillow and gaped at him.

“It’s just—it’s something you are born with,” he said. “It’s not something you can control. So! It’s not your fault.”

Although their face was still red, and their eyes still pained, the Human smiled at him. They turned around in their bed to sit up. “Thank you, for, um, your concern, but—“

“I wasn’t concerned! I was just... tired of you being all mopey and depressing.”

“Oh. Well, thanks a-anyway, but...” They looked down, to their lap. “I have to do it, I have to learn magic. I’ll figure it out.”

“You won’t. It’s literally impossible for you.”

“I... I have to.”

“You realise why she wants you to do magic, right? It’s because of Chara.”

The Human pulled their knees to their chest and hugged them.

“Chara was the first human Toriel had ever adopted,” he said, “I mentioned them before. Toriel had adopted them back when...when she was still Queen.”

“And they could do magic, couldn’t they.”

“Heck yeah, they could! They were _incredible_ at it, too. Even better than... even better than some of the monsters were! They were good at pretty much _everything_.”

“Hm.” The Human stared at him with sad, half-lidded eyes. “Flowey, what was Chara like?”

“Chara was... uhh...” wait a moment, why should he _just_ tell them? “You know how you are? How you won’t lift a finger against enemies far weaker than you are and you got emotional over a dumb butterfly you caught because it was pretty? Well, Chara was the opposite of that.” Now he both told them and insulted them. Good.

The Human’s head whipped up. “I didn’t get _emotional_ over that butterfly! I just didn’t want to hurt it. I don’t like hurting things.”

“But you didn’t mind catching any of those big, _ugly_ bugs, did you.”

“I was going to release them aftewards!”

 “That’s not what _Toriel_ was planning, idiot. But in any case, it proves my point. You’re emotional and soft-hearted. Chara was... logical.”

“But they were a good person, right?”

“Chara was... _smart_. They had a lot of aspirations. They—they actually wanted to get out of here. To get _us all_ out of here. And they were willing to do _anything_ to do that.”

“Hm.” The Human let their head fall on their knees.

“If Chara had their way, they would have succeeded. And... You wouldn’t even be here. And I’m not just saying _‘you’_ as is _you alone_. I’m talking about _humanity_.”

“Oh...”

“It’s funny, actually, looking at how you act, you can’t be any more different than Chara. The fact that you can’t do magic is just the cherry on top. I can’t imagine how _delusional_ someone would have to be to think you are the same person!”

The Human turned their head to look away from him.

“The only thing you two actually have in common is that you look kinda similar...” Very similar, actually, especially when—

It finally hit him. His lower jaw fell. “You— you—!”

The Human pressed their face to their knees.

“You _knew_ this was happening! You’re pretending to be Chara!”

The Human hugged their knees even tighter.

“That’s why you’re wearing their sweater...” The shock permeated his very core, his mind both numb and jumbled.

The Human was shivering again. “I’m sorry...” Their voice broke. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful to them. I was just trying to make Toriel happy...”

Flowey kept staring at them as they shrunk under his eyes, waiting for his judgement. What a bizarre feeling. Usually, it was _him_ who got judged. He tried to sort out the thoughts in his head. He wasn’t sure what he to feel.

He should be angry, mad, exploding with rage. How dare they?! How dare they sully Chara’s memory like that?! How dare they try to ride off Chara’s memory to get Toriel to love them?! He should tell them in no uncertain terms what he thought, too. _You? You’re nothing. You don’t deserve any of this. Toriel doesn’t love you. Toriel will never love you._

But instead, he ended up musing. “Huh... I probably should have realised sooner... you...” his voice got lower with every word. “You didn’t even correct her when she called you by their name.” He took a deep breath and tried to control his tone of voice to sound more neutral. ”But then again, you haven’t even told her what your _actual_ name is. You... you haven’t told anyone your name.”

 “No one asked...”

That was another opportunity he could use to hurt them. To _punish_ them. _Well well, it shows how much they truly care about you, doesn’t it?_

But that didn’t sound right to him now. And besides, he was curious. “Say, what _is_ your name?”

The Human froze, and their sobbing and shaking stopped. They sat, still as a statue, even their breaths stilled. Flowey shifted in place. It was only a name. Why did they have to be so weird about it?

He started thinking about what he should say next.

“Frisk,” said the Human.

Shivers went down Flowey’s stem. “Huh?”

“Frisk...” They were looking at him now, their face red and puffy. “My name is Frisk...”

That name evoked an odd feeling. He tried to mask his discomfort. “Frisk? That’s a _weird_ name.”

“Yeah...” Frisk’s face crumpled and they went back to pressing their face to their knees, even as it muffled their words. “I get that a lot...”

He shifted in place. Frisk hugged their knees tight to their chest, as if trying to disappear into themself. He tried to think of anything else he could say, or at least, of any reason why he’s begun feeling so weird.  It occurred to him that he never saw a human cry before.

Chara kept their feelings close to their chest. It was a trait he, ever the crybaby, both admired and envied them for. But it also frustrated him. They were best friends, and they could always read him, not so much like an open book, but like a leaflet. They knew him inside and out, even better than he knew himself. No one understood him the way they did, but he could never understand them. He barely ever managed to get them to open up to him.

Even as they recounted to him the reasons they climbed the mountain, their voice was soft, and their face expressionless. Hearing about it drove him to tears, but they, who lived through it, showed not a trace of weakness or pain at the memory.

Frisk was very different than Chara, which was good, because it meant he actually stood a chance at getting through to them, and from there, _destroying_ them.

He wanted to bash his head against the wall for asking their name. Asking for their name might have implied to them that he _cared_ , and he didn’t. He had no sympathy for them at all. He was pissed at them. He hated them.

But then again, he could use their name in what he was going to say next. Names make your speech more personal, more direct. They make it clear that the speech is directed at the target and the target alone. And when that speech is full of rage and hatred it showers the target with it. It drowns them and they have no place to hide.

That was one of the reasons he decided to use the name ‘Flowey’, rather than ’Asriel’. Pseudonyms keep you safe.

He thought about what he could say. _You’re worthless, Frisk. You’re not Chara, not even close. You’ll never be Chara. Chara would have hated you and they would have hated being compared to you. By pretending to be them you spat on their memory. Toriel will hate you once she learns. She will hate you with every ounce of her soul and you’ll deserve it. You’re not even a real person, Frisk. You’re a pale, worthless imitation of a person much greater than you’ll ever be. You don’t deserve love. You don’t deserve anything. You never will._

He tried to think of all the ways he could get under their skin. Give voice to everything that must have been going through their head.

What was their past like? They got attached to Toriel so easily. Of all the wonders that the Underground had to offer, they wanted to live a quiet life with her the most. Toriel was far from a perfect mother, she wasn’t even a _good_ mother to them, but they still clung to her. Still craved her approval. What was their life on the surface like?

He wondered what it was like, to run away from bad circumstances, and find someone that loves you, only to then discover that it was never _you_ they loved.  To realise that no matter how hard you try, you’ll never live up. You’ll never truly earn their love.

And then you have to choose. You can lash out at them, but that could turn out ugly in a flash, and then you’ll have to run away again. You can close up, withdraw, secretly hoping that _they’ll_ pursue you and prove their love to you after all. A slower version of the first option. Or...

...you can try to live up to the lie. Keep trying to earn their approval. Bask in their false displays of affection. Lick up the scraps of the love someone else got, like the starved dog you are.

It was so pathetic he wanted to cry.

There were so many things he could say to them. So many. He wondered how they’ll react. Will they snap and get angry? Will they become violent? Will they shut down and give up entirely? ...Probably the last one.

He could get his dominion over the Underground back. All he had to do is tell them everything he thought of now. It was an opportunity he could only dream of when he first discovered they were going to stay with Toriel.

He opened his mouth. And then closed it again. His breath hitched, and he noticed how damp his cheeks were.  He shook his head, trying to shake off the odd feeling that washed over him. He swallowed his saliva again, noticing how much more warm and bitter his mouth got.

Why? How could it be that there were this many things he could say... and yet he couldn’t say any of them?

He took a deep breath.

“Frisk,” he said, his voice low and dark, “You should stop pretending to be Chara.”

“I know.” Frisk lifted their head, but only until their eyes rose above their knees. Their half-lidded eyes were newly red and wet. “I’m sorry. I—“

“It’s hurting you, isn’t it.”

Frisk’s froze up again.

“I... I know what it’s like,” he said, “trying to make someone else happy at the price of your own suffering. It’s— It’s really bad.”

Frisk’s eyes glistened as they wandered away from him.

“I wasn’t always... well, the way I way now.” He took a moment to consider how much he’s going to tell them. “I tried to do good at first, even though I couldn’t enjoy it because I’m... uh... well. At first I... I thought that I could...vicariously enjoy other people’s happiness. And then when I couldn’t, I tried to do good for their sake, selflessly. Even though it made me feel like I was dying inside.” He lowered his eyes. “I can’t even call it soul crushing, because I don’t even have a soul, and it still managed to crush me. So, there! Don't sacrifice your happiness like that.” He looked back up to see them sniffling into their knees.

“That’s...” Even as they sniffled, a smile broke through the corners of their lips.“...that’s the kindest thing you ever said to me...”

Wait, did he mean to say a _kind_ thing? No, that can’t be right. “Well! What I really meant to say was... uh...” He knew what to say next. “If Toriel doesn’t love you for who you are, that’s not your problem, it’s hers! And you shouldn’t care anyways, because Toriel is an idiot, like I told you.”

“Yeah... that’s sounds more like you...” Frisk’s sniffling has died down, but their smile remained as they lifted their head to look at him.” Thank you.”

They shuffled under their blanket and laid back down, before pulling the blanket over their shoulder and burying their face back in their pillow. Flowey stood in place, unsure of what to do next, as Frisk’s breathing grew softer and more even. They were sleeping now, for real. Huh, they trusted him enough to fall asleep with him in the room. It wasn’t a matter of his presence being an avoidable possibility, where you would have to sleep with one eye open. And it wasn’t something they could fake to be nice. They trusted him enough to be comfortable around him.

And then it occurred to him that he might not have fixed anything. Frisk was still under Toriel’s thumb. What if they don’t confront her? What if they end up getting scared, or hesitant, or they feel sorry for her and don’t want to ruin her illusion?

He’s going to have to force a confrontation. Now.

He burrowed in the ground and popped back up at the living room, where Toriel slept on her armchair. Her glasses rested on the bridge of her snout, and her hand laid on top on the pages of the open book in her lap. It’s just like her, to sleep without a care in the world whilst her supposedly _beloved_ adopted child cries themself to sleep at night.

He burrowed back down and made his way to Toriel’s room, where she kept her pens and scrap pieces of paper. And where he wouldn’t be hit by a fireball the second she awakes.

With a pen in his mouth, and a paper beneath him, he pondered what to write. He could think up a hurricane of insults, but, like with Frisk, none of them seemed right. In the end, he settled for the plain truth.

_‘their name is Frisk’_

Before sneaking back to the living room and tucking the little note between the wedge between the pages of Toriel’s book. He found his hiding spot in the corner of the room, and waited.

Why exactly was he doing this? What did he expect to happen?

Toriel might not respond well. What if she hated Frisk for this? What if she attacked them? Is that what he wanted? It’s what he _should_ have wanted. This _should_ be the reason why he’s doing this.

What he _shouldn't_ be doing is summoning a bullet above his head, and pointing it at her. Sometimes he even surprised himself.

Toriel woke up with a sharp snort, her eyes flying open. To Flowey’s despair, she placed her hands on the armrests to push herself up. To his relief, she paused as she noticed the book in her lap. She lifted the note up and pushed the glasses back up her snout. She stared with wide eyes at the note for a long moment, her face cycling between emotions. She put both the book and the note aside with the sort of barely-moderated hurry saw her display only a few times before. And then, she got up and rushed to Frisk’s room.

He held his breath as he followed her, his stomach twisted in dread.

She pressed down on the handle and nudged the door open, then strode towards Frisk’s bed and leaned over.

“Frisk,” she said softly, “are you awake?”

Frisk stirred. Their voice was groggy. “Toriel? Wha—“

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She engulfed them in a hug.

As he watched Toriel’s arms wrap around Frisk, he told himself that the warmth filling him from within had everything to do with the fact he managed to show Toriel up.

And nothing to do with the way Frisk looked at him from over Toriel’s shoulder, teary-eyed, but smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took him seven chapters to learn their name. That's how you know a fanfic is Slow Burn.


	8. Of Manifold Mysteries and Marginalised Minorities

It was a few days after Asriel had found mom when the realisation hit him: she couldn’t help him.

In hindsight, it wasn’t as sudden as it sounds. This harsh truth lurked in the corner of his mind like a shadow. No matter how hard he tried to deny it to himself, it was there, a wound in any hope he tried to muster. But hindsight didn’t make it any less painful.

He couldn’t stay. But he had nowhere left to go, except in search of Chara. First, he’ll visit their grave, and then, he’ll follow in their footsteps.

Escaping Mom was about as hard as escaping Dad. While moving around in this form was a lot easier now, Mom was smarter and more aware of his capabilities. He had to earn her trust, get her to believe both that he’s hardier than he looks and that he wouldn’t run. But from there, it was just a matter of getting her to take him bug hunting, and disappearing when her back was turned.

It was only after he did that that he realised he forgot to ask her where their grave was. He really was an idiot.

From one end to the next, he combed the ruins, asking for help from all he met. But none of them helped him. Looxes were too belligerent to answer him clearly.  No Migosp would have answered even if they knew, because no one around them did. Vegetoids insisted that they couldn’t talk, and neither should he. Moldsmals only spoke in sqourches, a language he could not understand. Froggits couldn’t tell left from right. Whimsuns ran away in tears, and probably would have done the same even if he was still himself.

And he wasn’t going to ask the Spiders, with their many small, beady eyes, their spindly, angular legs, and their serrated sideways jaws. He had no doubt they knew; their webs spread like tendrils throughout the Ruins. But he wasn’t going to ask them.

Even thinking about talking to them sent a shiver down his stem.

In the end, it was his own mind that came up with the solution: Toriel buried Chara where he had found them for the first time. It made sense. It was the closest she could come to burying them on the surface.

So there he went, and there he found what he hoped to find: a flowerbed, small and square, right beneath the hole that lead to the surface. But he also found something he didn’t expect, or want: a Whimsun sitting by the flowers.

Asriel was reluctant to admit that the spell was broken. This was still Chara’s grave, after all. But the presence of another creature there, and a lowly Whimsun, at that, still felt disrespectful. Did it even realise where it was? This place will never mean as much to it as it did to him.

He should scare it away, somehow. It shouldn’t be hard. This is a Whimsun, after all.

And yet from the gaping hole within him, came an inkling: if he still had his soul, he wouldn’t want to frighten the little guy. If he still had his soul, he’d feel sorry for it.

 This Whimsun was small, even by Whimsun standards. It sat by the flowerbed looking at its knees, and fidgeting with its thin, wiry fingers. Just outside the beam of light. That was the kind of creature Whimsuns were. Always craving light and warmth, but too afraid to reach for it.

In any case, he doubted that this Whimsun meant any harm by being here. There’s no harm by letting it stay. But he didn’t want to leave yet either.

He decided to make the effort to be kind to it. After all, this may be the last chance he’ll have to be kind to another living being ever again.

“Um... hello,” said Asriel.

The Whimsun shrieked and whipped around. Clutching its hands to its chest, it stared at Asriel with teary eyes.

“It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.” Asriel made the effort to smile at it. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

The Whimsun was shaking, leading Asriel to wonder why he bothered. It’ll run off soon, anyways, and he wasn’t complaining.

One root-pull after another, he moved closer to the flowerbed, while the Whimsun stayed frozen in place. Once he was by the flowers, he took a moment to take in the room.

 This room must’ve been as beautiful as he remembered, he told himself. In fact, it must’ve been even more beautiful, thanks to the flowers. Chara’s favourite. The light from above stood out in contrast to the darkness permeating the room, which made it all the more special. And this light was already plenty special, being from the sun and all.

It was pretty, he told himself. The way the yellow light shone from above onto the yellow flowers. The way the skies above were blue, with white clouds. Chara would have liked this view.

He dropped his eyes onto the shorter flowers below, trying to ignore the way the Whimsun was still staring at him. The flowers were yellow, like he was, he noted. They were Chara’s favourite, he reminded himself. By extension, he supposed, he must be Chara’s favourite too. Not anymore though. They died because of him.

What stupid, plain-looking flowers these are. Did the rest of the Underground really think the two of them died for this?  Well, he had no right to complain. Chara didn’t die for such a stupid reason. But _his_ reason for dying was even _stupider_.

He focused on the flowers even harder, thinking about the way they glistened under the sunlight. Toriel must’ve been taking good care of them. Watering and trimming them. Maybe she cared about Chara after all...

...Or maybe she was using the flowerbed to catch her _new_ children. Ensuring they had a comfortable landing, even at the expense of trampling all over Chara’s grave.

He shut his eyes. This place offered no comfort to him. He should go away, somewhere, far, far away...

He imagined the surface. The world Chara came from. The endless skies. The horizons. The stars. The sunsets and dawns... Everything he used to yearn for. To dream of. Everything that used to fill him with wonder. And no longer did.

His face crumpled and his eyes filled up again. He sobbed and sobbed, burying his face in the edge of the flowerbed. There was nothing left for him. Nothing. What hope is there? Even if he got the freedom he always wished for, he’ll never be happy with it.

He couldn’t even _want_ anymore.

A hand placed on the side of his stem. He stiffened, unsure of whether to stay still or shift away. The hand felt small, and gentle, like a feather resting upon his shoulder. The Whimsun was leaning over him. Its eyes were still teary, but no longer afraid.

It was a bittersweet feeling. For a few moments, this timid stranger connected with him better than his own parents.

It was the only time in his soulless existence when he managed to form this kind of connection with another being. And the only time he ever managed to get a Whimsun to trust him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

 

The morning after the _name_ _incident_ , Flowey waited for Frisk by Home’s doorstep. He watched as they stepped out of the house and waved goodbye to Toriel inside. The dark circles under their eyes were gone and they were wearing their old sweater again, the blue one with the purple stripes. They closed the door behind them while humming a little tune.

Their face brightened even more as they saw him. “Hey Flowey.” They knelt before him. “Thank you for what you did yester—”

“I just felt like doing it, okay? I wasn’t doing you a favour or anything.”

“Right. That’s okay. In any case, um... I, uh... I forgot to tell you about the _stuff_ , didn’t I.”

“Yeah! You did,” and he forgot to ask. Even now, he wouldn’t have asked if they didn’t remind him.

There was something else he wanted to ask them about. An odd little question, out-of-the-blue, that hung in the back of his mind since he awoke that morning. But the _stuff_ should come first.

“Sorry,” said Frisk, “tell you what, I’m heading down to the spider shop right now. How about I tell you on the way there?” They stood up straight.

“Fine.”

Frisk smiled at him and stood up. After motioning him after them, they begun walking and he followed.

 “But if you don’t tell me enough before you get there,” said Flowey, “I’m... I’m gonna keep following you around until you do!”

“Sounds good,” said Frisk. “So, where do you want to begin? “

“How many times did you reset?”

“Once.”

“Just once? That’s boring.”

“Yeah... I didn’t need to reset any more than that.”

“Fine then. How many times did you save and load?”

“A couple, I guess... I saved every opportunity I got, mostly when finding interesting or notable things, or when I felt nervous about the challenges ahead. I loaded mostly when I died.”

Huh, interesting. He had never given much thought to the difficulty of traversing the Underground as a human, or being the target of the king’s plan. The monsters outside the Ruins were much more powerful than the ones inside, and Frisk was a wimp.

“How far did you get?” asked Flowey.

“Very,” said Frisk.

“Hey, you said you’d answer my questions!”

“Right, sorry. I... uh... I... couldn’t go beyond... um... barrier.” Frisk held their head high and avoided his eyes.

That far?! That can’t be right. “Really? You got to Asgore? You managed to beat _everyone_?”

“Well, I didn’t _beat_ them. But yeah.”

“You’re telling me that you managed to get past everyone _without killing_?”

“It’s kind of my thing, I think.”

He should figure out a way to catch them lying.

“Pfft. Yeah,” he said. “I bet you and, umm... _Umdyne_ became best friends—“

“Undyne? Yeah, I met her. She didn’t trust me at first. But I won her over, eventually.”

Kind of a vague answer, but it fit. Okay, maybe they did get at least as far as Undyne. Still, there’s no way they could have gotten past Sans. Even if they avoided him in Snowdin, there’s no way he’d let them reach Asgore. They had no reason to sugarcoat this now.

“And I’m _sure_ you and Sans were just like old buddies,” said Flowey. “No suspicion, no murder attempts...”

“Sans was really nice pretty much from the start. It’s _Papyrus_ who I had to win over, but it wasn’t even that hard. We—Papyrus and I, that is—even ended up going on a date.”

“What?!”   

His face burned. Ugh. There’s no accounting for taste. To think, Frisk going on a date with _Papyrus_. They were both so stupid!

“It didn’t go anywhere, though,” said Frisk. “In the end, Papyrus decided we’re better off as friends. I...uhh... I don’t have much luck when it comes to love.”

“Well, that’s impressive. Considering you have _no standards_!”

“Yes I do!” Frisk looked back at him with wide eyes.

“No you don’t. You’d flirt with _anyone_.”

“That’s not true! I wouldn’t flirt with like, say, Jerry.”

“Fine then, what _are_ your standards?”

“I like, umm...” Frisk rolled a lock of hair between their fingers, “I like kind people...”

That was a standard, he had to admit. And a good one, at that. But this answer still left him sour. Didn’t they call _him_ beautiful once? The memory kept popping into his mind. He shouldn’t even care about this. What a stupid, lying—

“Good morning, Mr Webbs!” said Frisk. “I brought a friend. I hope you don’t mind.”

Huh, he hadn’t noticed it when they reached the spider sale. A spider rolled off a string on the ceiling, lowering a small paper onto Frisk’s hands.

“Hey, Flowey,” said Frisk, “are you going to volunteer here too?”

“No.”

“Okay.” They turned their head towards the spider on the ceiling. “Sorry. Can he stay? I—“

The spider dropped another note onto Frisk’s hand.

“...Thank you. I promise he wouldn’t distract me. So, where’s the kitchen?”

 

* * *

 

 Spider kitchens weren't all that different than normal kitchens, because carpenters in the Underground did not make spider-sized appliances.

As Muffet, and her particular subspecies of spider, did not exist in the Ruins, the spiders here had to make do by the usage of thick webstrings that hung from the ceiling. Some of the strings were connected to handles, or dials, or faucets. Others hung freely, so that the spiders could use them to manipulate cutlery and other tools like puppets.

Of course, now with Frisk around, cooking would go a lot easier for them. And, speaking of Frisk- he had to keep asking them questions, hadn't he.

Flowey wracked his brain for another question. It wasn’t as though he ran out of questions to ask. In fact, he wasn’t sure how to begin, or rather, how to continue on from the questions he had already asked. It was like the last thing they talked about had short-circuited his brain.

“Hey, Flowey, how do I look?”

His sight seemed to come into focus again, centred on Frisk. He couldn’t help but gawk. Their sleeves were rolled up, and their hair was pulled back by a red bandana that didn’t even cover their loose bangs, just pressed them to their forehead. They also wore a frilly, red apron hemmed with several fingertip-sized bows. But it was their smile which drew Flowey’s eyes above all. Their smile which reached up to their eyes and made not only their face, but everything about them shine.

 “You... uh...” Wait, what was he stammering for? “This is stupid!”

“Huh?”

“Why the _hell_ would they have this apron?! None of them could wear this. Did they weave it, spending hours after hours knitting together webbings to make this for someone who just started here? Did they just have this laying around?”

“This is probably one of Muffet’s aprons.” Frisk pinched the apron by its hems like people do with their skirts when they curtsy. “It’s certainly cute enough.”

“Wait, you met Muffet?” There must be a story behind this. Spiders both in and out of the Ruins, kept to themselves. They wanted no part in Asgore’s plan.

Muffet may have owned that parlour in Hotland, but considering the absurd price gouging, Frisk had no reason to even buy anything, let alone stay and chat with the shopkeep. They wouldn’t have the opportunity to learn her name. And Muffet wouldn’t attack them out of the blue, either. Her cannibalism jokes were just that. Jokes.

“Yeah. It’s kind of a long story, actually,” said Frisk. “Um, I need to make a batch of chunky donuts. Let me get started here.“

Frisk moved towards the oven and, careful not the disturb the thick webstrings, turned the dials in different directions, then grabbed a saucepan and a jug of spider cider. They turned on the stove and placed the pan on top, before pouring the cider. Gripping the pan handle, they watched as the cider boiled.

“Right, you got started. Now tell me how you met Muffet!”

“Hey, keep the voice down." They motioned to the spiders who sat atop a web on the other corner of the kitchen. "The spiders here probably—“

“No, they don’t know her. Not personally. Stop delaying!”

“Right. Sorry.” Frisk grabbed a large bowl, poured flour, baking powder, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt into it, and started mixing. “Mettaton recruited her to get my soul.”

Yeah... Muffet always put her people first. She’d agree to something like this.

“How did you get past her, then?” asked Flowey.

“Well, the thing was, he didn’t _just_ offer her money. He sold her on attacking me by telling her I hated spiders.” Frisk swirled the wooden spatula in the dough. “The spiders here sent a telegraph setting the record straight, though.”

“Wait, are you really going to tell me they stuck out for you?”

“Yeah. I owe them for that.”

Huh, no wonder Frisk put in all this effort into helping them now.

“So,” said Flowey, “why did Mettaton—“

“Mettaton was trying to keep my soul from falling into Asgore’s hands.”

“Well, yeah. I know that. I figured that’s what Mettaton would want to do. But how did he find out about you?”

“It, well,” Frisk picked up a large egg and examined it up close. “It was a sort of play between Alphys and Mettaton. Alphys was trying to keep me from going up against Asgore by befriending me. So she recruited Mettaton to uh... pretend to attack me so she can pretend to save me. But then Mettaton got tired of it and— hmm... How am I going to do this cleanly...” they were staring, cross-eyed, at an egg which they held touching the bridge of their nose. What were they trying to do, egg-surgery?

Flowey picked up an egg with his vine and slammed it on the counter. Frisk jumped.

“Right, not like that,” they said. They grabbed a towel and wiped off the mess. “Do they keep any palette knives here by chance?”

“I dunno. Check the drawer below you,” said Flowey.

“Thanks.”

“So, uh, Alphys. Huh.” Flowey’s mind wandered to a certain dark laboratory. “You really can’t trust that one. She’s a big, stupid, cowardly liar.”

“I, uh...” Frisk set aside both the egg and the knife and looked at him. “I can see why you say that. But she’s not a bad person. She was trying to figure out a way to keep both Asgore and I alive. And her actions helped me tide the Underground to my side in that timeline. When she put me on TV, She got people to root for me. She helped everyone see that just because I’m human doesn’t mean I’m evil. ” They picked up the egg and the knife again, and rested the egg on their open palm, pointed end towards the fingers.

 _Frustratingly_ forgiving and understanding, as always. He’ll just have to get used to it. But right now, he had something more worrying to think about. Did they find the True Lab?

He had to figure out how to ask them about it subtly.

“Y-yeah! I suppose that although she’s a liar and an idiot, it could have been a lot worse! She could have been, like, a mad scientist experimenting on fallen-down or even _dead_ people, who also makes dumb fake audio files!”

“Hm.”  Frisk held the palette knife with the edge across the middle of the egg. With a smooth whip of their wrist, they struck the egg, breaking it cleanly in half. They poured the contents in the bowl. He couldn’t see their face.

Well, they didn’t _seem_ to protest his assertions. Which was good. If there was one silver lining to the fact that they were refusing to leave the Ruins, it was that his secrets were safe. Flowey wasn’t sure why, but the thought of Frisk coming across _those_ tapes made him feel cold inside.

Frisk seemed to tolerate him well enough, but what would they think of Asriel Dreemurr?

They said they liked kind people. But despite his reputation, Asriel was not truly kind. Asriel agreed to Chara’s plans. Asriel was a hypocrite, not determined enough to see the plan to its end, nor moral enough to stop it before it could hurt people. Asriel was the reason why Frisk had to fight to survive.

He wasn’t sure why he cared so much what Frisk thought of him. But at this point, it was yet another reality he’ll just have to get used to. Should he ever convince Frisk to leave the Ruins, the first thing he’ll do is go to the True Lab and destroy all the evidence.

He watched Frisk some more as he tried to come up with another question. He watched as they measured each ingredient they wanted to add by raising a translucent cup to eye-level, their brows furrowed together so tight that it was as though they were counting every single droplet and crystal. As they mixed together cream, sugar, vanilla, melted butter, the egg and the now-cooled cider, before combining that mixture with the dough.

After stirring the mixture, they opened the drawers and reached for the tins, but then stopped.

“Wait,” they said. “I forgot to add the spiders.”

“Yeah, you should have added them much, much earlier, dummy. You’re gonna have to throw it all away now!”

“Nah, it’s not too late. It’s not too late until you put it in the oven.” Frisk dragged a sack of dried spiders from the corner of the counter closer to them.  They opened the sack and peered inside, face twisting for a brief moment.

Yeah, Flowey doubted that spiders were a common ingredient in human cuisine. Not any more common than in monster cuisine of the non-spider type, that is. Then again, he didn’t know all that much about cooking or baking. He only _skimmed_ the cookbooks of the Underground.

Frisk cupped their hands together before sinking them into the spiders. They brought their hands back up at a pace of a centimetre a second. Spiders spilled like water out of the edges of their palms and between their fingers.

“Frisk,” said Flowey, “you realise that these spiders are already dead, right? You don’t need to be so gentle.”

“I wanna be gentle, though,” said Frisk. “Food tastes better when you make it with mercy!”

They had to have just been messing with him at this point.

 

* * *

 

The donuts were out of the oven, steaming-hot and shiny and golden. Their sweet aroma filled the room. But Flowey knew better than to fall for such lies.

He did not like spider donuts. And he wasn’t going to start liking them now. He couldn’t care less for the way the sugar crumbs on the donuts almost seemed to sparkle from the light above.  The way they smelled didn’t make his mouth water at all. And he _didn’t_ envy the owner of the spider bakery, Mr Webbs, who rocked back and forth on the webstring he hung from as he ate one.

He almost felt sorry for him, actually. That he had to have the first taste for the sake of quality assurance.

“So,” said Frisk, “what do you think?”

Still holding the donut with seven of his legs, and chewing, Mr Webbs made an elaborate motion to his subordinates with his free leg. A note dropped into Frisk’s hands. Frisk beamed.

“Thank you,” they said. “I enjoyed making them, too.”

Of course. Of course Frisk would win them over again like that. That’s what always happened with Frisk and monsters. Even in the last timeline where... wait.

“Do you think it might be good enough to sell?” asked Frisk. Mr Webbs made a vertical motion with one of his front legs. The spider equivalent of a nod.  “Awesome! Can I do the delivery? Pleasepleaseplease...”

“Wait,” said Flowey, “They do deliveries now..?”

“Thank you, Mr Webbs, I’ll do my best!” Frisk filled up a box with their donuts and closed it. Another note fell on top. “...huh? Mr Webbs, you really don’t have to!”

 “Hey,” said Flowey, “don’t ignore me!”

Yet another note.

 “Oh. Well,” said Frisk. “I don’t mind either way, but thank you. You’re an honest man...spider.” Still holding their donut box, Frisk turned to Flowey. “Let’s go, Flowey.”

Huffing, Flowey followed Frisk out of the shop. They walked in silence for a few minutes as Flowey stewed.

“Hey,” said Frisk. “Sorry for ignoring you a little back there. I needed to be professional with the spiders because, y’know, first day on the job and all. To answer your question, yes, we _do_ do deliveries. Mr Webbs had this idea after I gave out donuts to everyone in the Ruins.”

“Whatever,” said Flowey.

“So, are you done with the questions?”

“No. Actually, I have a lot of really BIG ones—”

“We’re going to deliver this to a Whimsun, before you ask.”

A whimsun, huh? No, that can come later. He had to concentrate on what he needed to ask.

“That wasn’t—“

“Oh,” said Frisk, “and you can have a donut or two. It’s fine.”

“I wasn’t going to ask. And hey, do they— do they even know you’re giving me—”

“—yes.” The lid of the donut boxed bounced in Frisk’s arms. “It’s how they’re paying me. I tried to tell them it wasn’t needed, but they insisted, though now I think I should have insisted back because—“

“—I know! They need it to leave the Ruins. I get it!”

“...Well, in any case, it does make sense to pay me like that. I don’t really need money. There isn’t much to buy here in the Ruins, except for their donuts and cider. And Toriel takes care of all the groceries anyways. So it’s like a shortcut to pay me directly in donuts.”

For some reason, Flowey was beginning to get the feeling that Frisk was avoiding letting him ask the questions that are to follow. Presumably because they guessed what those questions might be. Unfortunately for them, he just found an opening to launch his next question.

“Yeah, the Ruins _are_ kind of small when you get used to them,” said Flowey.

“I prefer the term ‘cosy’,” said Frisk

“Why would you confine yourself to this place?”

Frisk’s smile froze on their face.

“You said that everything was fine for you out there,” said Flowey. “You said that you made a lot of friends. That you won everyone over and convinced them not to fight you. So sure, you lost against King Asgore. You can’t reach the surface. But you don’t have to hide in the Ruins. It’s not like the King would hunt you down or anything. You know him. He probably wanted to fight even less than you did. And if no one’s putting pressure on him to fight you, he’d just let you be.”

Frisk was not smiling any more. They stared straight ahead. Their pace quickened.

“As a matter of fact,” said Flowey, “why reset to begin with? Why give up all the friendships you made? Isn’t that kind of like betraying them?”

“I’m sorry,” said Frisk. “I can’t answer that.”

“Hey, you said—“

“I said I’ll tell you some stuff about the, well, _stuff_. I didn’t say I’ll tell you _everything_.”

“You liar!”

“Flowey... I...” Frisk shut their eyes. “I’m sorry, I just— It’s just— I realised that they’re better off not being friends with me.”

“That’s really vague.”

“That’s all I can say. If it’s any comfort, you’ll... find out eventually. Just not now.”

“Fine.”

A part of him wanted to push the issue, get that information out of them. But for some reason, the look on their face discouraged him. In any case, it shouldn’t matter. He’ll find out eventually.

“Can you at least tell me why _I_ chose not to remember?” asked Flowey

“Well. You, uh, played a really big role last timeline. And long story short, you decided that not remembering was the right thing for you to do.”

“Why the hell would I think that?!”

“You... really changed during that timeline.” Frisk smiled a little at him, their eyes sad. “I don’t know whether you should have chosen to forget. But I can appreciate why you did it. Why you made the effort.”

Oh jeez, did they manage to infect him too with Frisk-itis?

“Don’t tell me we used to be friends or something,” said Flowey.

“Well, I... I thought of you as a friend,” said Frisk, “but I don’t think you felt the same way. And that’s okay. You can’t change the way you feel. And well, I may have... pushed a bit too hard to try to befriend you. I’m sorry.”

“Fine. As long as you accept that we’ll _never_ be friends in _this_ timeline!”

“Yeah... It’s better this way.”

A flash in his mind. _His throat is raw._ _It’s storming snow and hail outside._ _Frisk is wearing a dark blue coat and a dark blue woollen hat. Red scarf wrapped around their face up to their ears. Their boots and pants are wet and muddy. They sit on their knees in front of him, eyes red and glossy as they stare at him in despair._

There was more to last timeline than they told him. There must have been _._ But he doubted they’ll tell him more. He’ll have to figure out the rest on his own. But even if they won’t tell him anymore about the past, maybe they would be willing to tell him about the future.

“Frisk,” he said, “for the last time, are you really going to stay here for the rest of your life?”

“Yeah... I mean, I don’t think I have anywhere else to go.”

“I read about, umm... human stuff, and it says you people can live for about seventy years.”

“Yeah...” Frisk’s voice was weak. “That’s kind of outdated, actually... most people live longer now.”

“That’s my point. Is this really how it’s going to be decades from now? You’re going to be just like, middle aged, or old, and you’re still going to live with Toriel and work part-time at the spider shop.”

“Hopefully the spiders will earn enough to get out by then.”

“And then you’ll have even less to do! That’s my point. Life here in the Ruins is dull. It’s really, really dull. Most Ruins monsters are okay with it, because they don’t live that long anyways. Toriel is okay with it because she’s a fricking weirdo. But people like us? Who have determination? We can’t live like this. I mean, _I_ got bored, and I had the entire Underground!”

 “I... uh... I’m not really all that worried about the future, to be honest. I prefer to live in the present, y’know? I’ll deal with the future as it comes. For all we know, maybe... maybe there’s nothing to worry about.”

“You can’t just shrug it off like this!”

“Look. It’s not like it’s urgent, or anything. It’s not even a problem yet. So there really isn’t any reason to worry about it.” Frisk stopped in place. “We’re here.”

The smell of lavender and mothballs filled the room, a reminder about the dangers of the outside world. Dozens of ashen-grey, webbed cocoons hanged off the walls and from the ceilings. Each cocoon as tall as Frisk, and with a circular hole around the size of Frisk’s face. Just large enough for a Whimsun to squeeze through if it pushed itself out head first. Whimsuns did not leave their house often, and so, did not need the exits to their houses to be convenient to use.

Flowey also knew that behind these holes, there was a door that could roll-snap into place should, say, a curious flower ever tried to poke his head inside. That was not something you could easily forget.

That’s Whimsun Neighbourhood for you.

 “So, are you going to call out for the customer?” asked Flowey.  It was a trick. Making a loud noise in the middle of Whimsun Neighbourhood was a good way to ensure that all the Whimsuns will burrow even deeper inside and refuse to come out for weeks.

“Hm...” Frisk placed the box on the ground. “I think I'll put my pay in a bag and leave the rest here. The customer can come collect their order when they feel safe.”

“Not gonna work, buddy. Whimsuns are timid around other species, but trust me; they can be utterly _vicious_ with each other. Your customer might never get to eat a crumb!”

“Yeah, you’re right. They’re all cramped like that. It can’t be good for them.” Frisk picked up the box again and pulled a note out of their pocket. “Right, it’s— _that_ house.”

They went to customer’s cocoon and stared at the little hole that made up the entrance.

“Well done. That was a few meters in the right direction,” said Flowey. “Were you expecting a doorbell?”

“No. It’s just... I’m trying to figure out how to do thi—“

“—Don’t bother trying to break the cocoons, by the way. Believe me, I tried.”

“Wasn’t going to do that, but thanks.” They took a step back and examined the hole. “Hmmm... I think I have an idea.”

They set the box on the floor and took a donut out of it. A whiff of the donuts made Flowey scowl. He did not like spider donuts, damn it, no matter how good they smelled. They had spiders in the crust. That’s the opposite of tasty!

“Thank goodness they gave me a few donuts to spare,” said Frisk. They pinched a crumb and placed it in the hole, deep enough that the crumb wouldn’t fall out, but no deeper.

“What, are you trying to lure them out with a trail of breadcrumbs?” asked Flowey, “There’s no way that would—“

The Whimsun poked its head out of the hole, grabbing the donut crumb in its mouth. Still chewing the crumb, it rotated its head to look around. Frisk sat cross-legged on the floor. Cupping the finger-mangled remains of the donut in their hands, they smiled at the Whimsun.

The Whimsun stared at Frisk, whose smile was getting less and less sure. With a quick motion, the Whimsun whipped back inside. Frisk dropped their head and their smile as Flowey prepared to gloat.

The Whimsun dove out of the cocoon hole, mouth first. Frisk looked at it with wide eyes as the Whimsun gobbled the crumbs in their hands. A moment later, their astonished look turned into a warm one.

“There there,” said Frisk, “be careful not to choke.”

With a stony face, Flowey stared at the scene in front of him. The question he set out to ask Frisk that morning flashed across his mind. He kept watching, hoping the answer would present itself before him.

After the Whimsun finished eating, it held out a sack. Frisk pulled out all the donuts that belongs to the Whimsun and placed them in its sack, then stood up. The Whimsun nodded at them and tacked the sack in the hood that made up its body, before scurrying back inside its cocoon. Flowey had no choice now.

“How do you do that?” asked Flowey.

 “Do what?” asked Frisk.

“How do you get Whimsuns to trust you like that?”

“I’m, uh... I’m not entirely sure. I think it’s just a matter of kindness, and patience, and donuts.”

Flowey looked away from Frisk, and across Whimsun Neighbourhood. Several Whimsun were poking their heads out of the holes in their cocoons, their eyes fixated on Frisk’s spare donuts.

“I have an idea.” Frisk reached into their bag and pulled out a donut. “Why don’t you try to befriend them yourself? It might be easier if you have something to offer.”

“Ha! Why should I— I...” His mind flashed back to a Whimsun standing over him, its hand on his shoulder. “...okay...”

He raised a vine from the ground, and then sent a coil through the donut hole and around the ring. The donut crust rubbed squishy and soft against his plant-skin. How would it feel in his mouth?

Like spiders, he reminded himself.

“Flowey, look.” Frisk knelt beside him and motioned towards one cocoon in particular, whose inhabitant was, save for a single foot, all but outside. “That one seems a little braver than the others. You should try it first.”

Flowey set to dive into the ground, but stopped himself. He had a donut in his vine. So through his roots, he pulled himself towards the brave Whimsun’s cocoon. But the closer Flowey got, the more the Whimsun shrunk back into its cocoon. By the time Flowey got there, all he could see of the Whimsun were the part of its face that could peek behind the hole.

“Now what?” asked Flowey.

“Wait for it to come to you,” said Frisk.

This was going to be the Frisk-Napstablook situation all over again. Flowey grit his teeth, but kept holding onto the donut and staying as still as possible. The Whimsun’s face came closer to the hole. Little by little, it pressed its face out.  Flowey shifted in place, sneaking looks towards Frisk, who was watching him with a small smile on their face.

Flowey turned to glare at the Whimsun, whose exit from its cocoon was slowing down. He waved his donut at it. “Hey, do you want this, or not?!”

The Whimsun whipped back inside, disappearing into the black. Flowey mashed the dough in his grip.

“You, uh... you got close,” said Frisk. “You just need to be a little more patient.”

“You think I never tried being patient?! It’s stupid. It doesn’t work. The thing with Whimsuns is you either gain their trust in the first few moments or you don’t gain it at all.”

“That’s... that doesn’t seem right. I remember a lot of times when—”

“—They didn’t seem to trust you at first but then warmed up to you? Buddy, you may not have realised it, but to get as far as you did, you have to start off on the right foot with them. The dumb thing is, if they don’t trust you to begin with, they’d go through the motions to pretend like they’re warming up to you and then bolt at the last second. I’ve been there.”

“That’s kind of... defeatist...”

“I have a lot more experience with Whimsuns than you do.”

“But you still asked me to help you with them?”

“That’s because— you—  uh...” Flowey wanted to bash his head on the floor for being so stupid. Why _did_ he think they’d be able to help him? “You have this—this thing where you charm people and make them fall in love with you!”

“I... uh... I didn’t set out to do that, though.” Frisk’s face grew red. “I was just trying to be nice. It isn’t magic or anything. I... I m-mean, I can’t even _do_ magic. So...”

“...Just trying to be nice, huh.”

That must’ve been the most annoying thing about Frisk. The better he got to know them, the more he realised that while Frisk had secrets, they had no true tricks up their sleeve. Frisk was no stranger to ‘ _acting’_ once in a while, if it meant they could get out of bad situations without compromising their morals. But when they were kind, there was nothing manipulative about it. Frisk’s niceness was pure sincerity.

Frisk was just _stupidly_ likeable. It was in their nature.

Was that why the Whimsuns trusted them? He hoped that this wasn’t the case. He’d stand no chance.

“So In any case, I think you should try again,” said Frisk “ _That_ Whimsun over there seems to be pretty brave, too.”

“It’s not gonna work, you know.”

“Trying couldn’t hurt.”

“Fine.”

Flowey made his way towards the second bravest Whimsun in the room. He watched with glazed eyes as the Whimsun shrunk back into its cocoon with every metre he crossed.

If Frisk wanted patient, fine. They’ll get patient. He didn’t care anymore. If the Whimsun wants the donut so much, it can come out. And if it’s so cowardly it’ll give up the donut, Flowey couldn’t care less. Hell, the Whimsun probably wasn’t even missing out on much. Flowey refused to believe that a _Frisk-made spider_ _donut_ could ever be good. It didn’t even sound _edible_ , when you put it like that.

Flowey kept watching, making the effort to look as standoffish as he could. Little by little, the Whimsun pushed its head out of the hole. The area above its upper lip twitched as it sniffed the air for the sweet scent of the donut. The Whimsun kept sniffing as it pushed itself fully out.

Flowey turned his head away from the Whimsun, but kept sneaking glances at it as it came closer. He reminded himself he couldn’t care less if the Whimsun took the donut or not, but an odd feeling kept rising inside him. Curiosity?

Hope?

The Whimsun was still sniffing as it came closer and closer to him. It stopped only when its face was a few centimetres away from the donut.

He stilled. His breathing stopped. Careful, careful. The slightest movement could scare it away. Blinking as slowly as he could, his eyes shifted around the room. From the Whimsun, still sniffing. To Frisk, who was watching him, with their lips sucked in and their cheeks puffed. Then back to the Whimsun. Its nose almost touched the donut.

The Whimsun froze in place, shrieked, then fled. It dove back into its cocoon with such force that left it swinging.

 Goes to show what hope is worth, doesn’t it.

Flowey turned and glared at Frisk as if to say _‘I told you so’_. They were still holding that weird expression.

“What?!” said Flowey.

Frisk broke into a giggle, keeling over and placing their hands on their mouth.

“Are you mocking me?!”

“I’m sorry,” said Frisk “I—It’s just— you were making that intense expression...”

Flowey stared at them for a moment, feeling emptier than ever before.

When Frisk’s giggles waned, they were left panting. They met his eyes and frowned.

“...Sorry,” they said. “I really didn’t mean to mock you. I, uh, really did think you’ll succeed. You were right, I should have listened to y—“

“Seriously, how do you do that?” asked Flowey. “How did you succeed just by being kind? It’s not enough. It’s never enough.”

“Well... I guess it’s wasn’t just kindness, in my case. It’s luck, too. My kindness helped me get further than I thought I could. But kindness can only help you when people accept it. So, yeah. If your kindness failed you, it doesn’t necessarily mean you failed! It can also mean the other person failed and you shouldn’t blame yourself.”

Ugh, how _general_. If Flowey didn’t know any better, he’d have thought that Frisk was making a passive-aggressive shot at him. _‘Can’t you see how kind I am to you? Why don’t you accept my kindness, Flowey?’_

But Frisk’s eyes were distant, and their voice had not an ounce of accusation. They really were trying to comfort him, and for some reason, that annoyed him even more.

“Frisk,” he said, “I meant about the Whimsuns. And in any case, how is _‘I’m lucky’_ supposed to help me?”

 “I, uh... I don’t know whether I _can_ help you, to be honest,” said Frisk. “The Whimsuns seem to be utterly terrified of you.”

“But why?! I’ve tried to help them. I really...” Memories full of dead Whimsuns filled his head, “...really... did.”

...Maybe the Whimsuns were right to be afraid of him

“Well, they are kind of skittish. It’s not like they’re scared only of you,” said Frisk.

“Ugh. Stop sugarcoating it. We both know why they’d be scared of me,” said Flowey. “They can see right through me. And I just can’t figure out why.”

“...Look. Flowey. Whimsuns are extra sensitive to this kind of stuff. I-I mean, they’d have to be, considering they’re so fragile. Even by monster standards. But, um...”

The memory of that Whimsun by the flowerbed flashed through his mind again as he tuned Frisk out. Why? Why did he have to remember it now? Why did the memory of it feel so painful? It was just a Whimsun.

After his suicide, and during his earlier timelines, Flowey thought he had found a surprisingly thick silver lining to his situation. He may have lost his body, his soul, his family, Chara. But his newfound power of determination meant that he’ll never have to lose anything again.

Did he lose something anyway since that day on the flowerbed?

No. That can’t be all there was to it. When he encountered _that_ Whimsun, he wasn’t the picture of kindness. He wasn’t even as kind as he was as Asriel.

“—So in other words. The Whimsuns rejecting you doesn’t make you inherently irredeemable or even bad! It just gives you, uh, something to work towards! ” said Frisk.

“I... I can’t understand,” said Flowey.

“Huh?”

“It’s not just kindness, Frisk! It can’t be.”

“Why not?”

“I... I _did_ manage to get a Whimsun to trust me, once. I wasn’t even that kind to it. But it still came to me. Still... stayed by my side.”

“Ah.” Frisk sat down in front of him. “Do you wanna, uh, tell me—“

“No!”

“I can’t help you with the Whimsuns unless—“

“You wouldn’t tell me anything about _you_ even though you promised! You don’t deserve to know anything about _me_!”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I understand.” The look in their eyes was distant. “I... uh... I think I might have an idea how you might have befriended that Whimsun.”

“...Right.” They knew, and yet they still told him all that nonsense about kindness being the key?

“I heard a couple of, uh, theories and stuff about Whimsuns, which you might find interesting. I—I mean, from folklore and stuff, and, really, _really_ old literature from before the barrier.”

“Okay, fine.” He doubted that humans knew all that much about Whimsuns. Hell, even monster scientists struggle to study them. Still, though, he may well listen.

“Well, the stories say that... that Whimsuns tend to be attracted to people with a very specific frame of mind. Even if those people aren’t particularly kind or even nice. They need to feel that the person doesn’t mean _them_ harm, obviously. But there’s also something else.”

 “Something else?”

“Whimsuns have been known to be attracted to, say, the kind of people who would stand on the edge of cliffs and buildings and stare at what’s below. People who are in prison for life, or even on death row. Soldiers and leaders who make ruthless decisions out of necessity. They probably would have been all over Asgore if he came here.”

“Wha— what do all these groups have in common?” And how did _he_ fit into this?

“Resignation. Fatalism. The feeling that there’s only one course of action you can take. Only one way the rest of your life can go.”

“...So you’re telling me that the only way I can win them over is by _giving up_? That doesn’t really sound like you.”

“No! No. My point is... uh, maybe it’s actually better that you don’t attract them anymore.”

“It’s stupid, and fake. You humans don’t know anything about Whimsuns.” It may have fit with that one encounter, but it didn’t make him hate it any less.

“Well, just stating the theory.”

“The theory is stupid! I feel dumber for even listening to it. Dumb enough to...” He considered for a moment what to do... how could he shock them? “Dumb enough to do THIS!”

He shoved the entire donut in his mouth and began chewing. Enjoying the wide-eyed look Frisk was giving him and the sweet... rich... chewy... The way the dough melted in his mouth, even the spider elements...

Panic gripped him. This wasn’t going according to plan. He meant to spit it right back out, but instead, he kept chewing, and chewing, and swallowing.

By the time he finished, Frisk was looking at him enraptured, leaning towards him with their hands between their legs. “Did you like it? did you?”

How was he even supposed to respond to that?

 

* * *

 

 

Frisk spent the rest of their time in Whimsun Neighbourhood alternating between distributing donuts to the inhabitants and trying to convince him to eat some more. They met with mixed results: namely, one task was a complete success, and the other a complete failure. Frisk’s spider overlords will probably be very happy with them by the end of today, as their marketing skills could probably rival Mettaton’s. But he still held on to what little pride he had left, and valiantly fended off the vile temptations of Frisk’s donuts.

With no more questions left to ask, Flowey hung around Frisk and watched them, looking for opportunities to spout something snarky or cool. But by the time Frisk said their last goodbye of the day and sealed their box with the last one or two donuts inside, he had yet to find any such opportunities.

Was today a waste of time? What a shame. It didn’t _feel_ like it was a waste, but looking back on it, Flowey realised he hadn’t accomplished anything he set out to do at all.

“Flowey,” said Frisk, “I’m heading back. You coming?”

“Fine.”

He doubted he’ll find a way to salvage this day, but it wasn’t as though there was anything better for him to do.

The two of them walked together out of Whimsun Neighbourhood. Frisk humming and bounding. Flowey following behind in silence, unable to do anything but stare. He wished he could think of something to say, another question he could ask them, a fight he could pick with them. A reason to stay in their presence.

He wasn’t sure what to think about the fact that Frisk wasn’t asking for one.

The two of them had just gotten out of Whimsun Neighbourhood when his roots felt a vibration through the ground. Familiar footsteps, a room away, and getting closer.

Frisk turned a corner and stopped. They stood frozen, their eyes wide and their arms pinned to the sides of their body.

“Oh, hey, Miss Toriel...”

“Hello, Frisk.”

The sound of Toriel’s voice stopped Flowey in his place. He couldn’t see her from his position, but perhaps it was for the better.

“How was your first day?” asked Toriel.

“It was good. It really was! I—“

“That is good to know.”

Should he leave? There was no reason for him to stay. Toriel was not worth talking to.

“I need to get back to the spider shop,” said Frisk.

“Ah, do not worry, my child,” said Toriel. “I went by them on my way here. Your customer has already sent them a telegraph stating that they have gotten their order and are satisfied. So the spiders agreed to let me take you right home from here. It is getting late, after all. And they do not wish to see you endangered any more than I do.”

“...You went by the spider shop?”

“Yes. I must say, my fears were entirely unfounded. Your employers are kind people, Frisk. And they speak of you glowingly.”

“Oh... Thanks. Um.” Frisk reached in the bag and pulled out a donut. “I baked this one. And well, all the ones in the batch I just sold.”

“I know. Mr Webbs told me.”

They held it out to her. “Do you want to try?”

Ha! Toriel was probably making the funniest face now. Screw the consequences, he had to see this. He poked his head around the corner, between Frisk’s legs and the wall.

Toriel was standing with her hands clasped together, the picture of ladylike and queenly, if not for the way her face twisted.  She stared at the donut as though it had spider legs sticking out of it. It took a few moments for her to reach out for it, but even so, she didn’t take it. Her fingers lingered in the air.

“It’s, um, okay if you don’t want it,” said Frisk.

“No.” She grabbed the donut. “Thank you, Frisk.”

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and bit down on the donut. She froze. Her eyes flung open and widened some more.

“This.” She gulped it down. “This is delicious.”

“Thank you,” said Frisk, a coy smile creeping up their face, “but, uhh, I _did_ tell you that spider donuts were good.”

“Yes, I can see that now.” Toriel smiled back. “I cannot believe I missed out on them for so long. I must acquire the recipe.”

“I don’t know whether they’ll give it to you. Or allow me to give it to you, for that matter.”

“I suppose not. I can understand, though. Spiders do not possess the best standing amongst the monsters of the Underground. It must be safer for them to be at least a little secretive.”

Especially because spider corpses were an essential part of the recipe, Flowey wanted to add. For some reason, he got the feeling that Toriel was trying to avoid thinking about that.

But on another note, since when was Toriel so conscious about the Spiders’ social status?

“Well, I wanna change that,” said Frisk. “I wanna change the Underground’s mind on the Spiders.”

“To be fair,” said Toriel, “the people of the Underground do have their reasons for being wary of the Spiders, even if they are not very good reasons. The cannibalism, for instance, had not won the Spiders any friends.”

So she _was_ thinking about that. Ha.

“But that’s not a good reason at all!” said Frisk. “Just because they’re different doesn’t mean that they’re evil! The Spiders eat their dead as a way to honor them. They use their dead to sustain the living. Passing a bit of themselves to the next generation.”

“Yeah!” said Flowey, “that’s also why they bake their dead into donuts and ciders and _sell_ them off!”

Frisk tensed up and looked down at him. Toriel’s eyes trained on him, too.

“That’s because, um.” Frisk glanced between him and Toriel. “It’s a matter of having the dead... um... advance the cause of spiders as a whole!” They stepped forward, placing one foot in front of him. “Yeah!”

Was that a protective gesture? Seriously?

“Flowey,” said Toriel, “I did not see you there.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Flowey put all the bitterness in his mouth into his words, “did I interrupt you or something?”

“No. As a matter of fact, I have been looking for you.”

“You... have?” asked Frisk.

“Yes,” said Toriel. Her eyes were still on him as she knelt down to his eye level, leaving only Frisk standing, stuck between the two of them. “First and foremost, I would like to apologise to you. I have misjudged you. Secondly, I would like to thank you for being a friend to Frisk when they needed it.”

He tore his eyes from hers. “Whatever.”

“Third of all,” said Toriel, “I would like to make you an offer. Should you be willing to listen.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“Not even a home?”

He gaped at her.

“That is my offer to you,” said Toriel. “I am not going to force you to accept it. I have no desire to kidnap or imprison you. But if you joined us, you will have some good food and a warm place to sleep. A safe place for you to come back to when you feel tired or lonely. I know we do not have much, and that it may take a lot of effort on my part to undo the damage I done, but I believe we can be happy together. And I truly believe... you could be happy with us, too.”

He turned away from Toriel. Frisk looked at him with wide eyes whilst trying not to wobble. He broke eye contact with them and drooped his head to the floor, staring everywhere but at Toriel. Toriel sighed.

“Like I said, it is okay if you choose not to join us,” she said. “The offer remains open. If you change your mind, you will always be welcome in our house.” She stood up again. “Come on, Frisk, we’re heading home.”

“Okay!” said Frisk. “See you later, Flowey.”

Toriel turned, and with a hand on Frisk’s back, led them with her. He watched after them as they went down the long corridor.

What a stupid offer. Why did she think the name incident changed anything? He couldn’t care less if those two idiots wanted to play house with each other.

But... if he lived with them, he would have more chances to spend time around Frisk. That is— to learn more about them and thus about the _stuff_! _That_ was the reason he wanted to spend time around them.

He’d also get the chance to sabotage them! That’s a thing he was _definitely_ going to do. He wouldn’t be so _stupid_ and miss an opportunity like that.

And warm beds and good foods sounded pretty good too.

“Hey!” cried Flowey. “Wait for me!”

When Frisk and Toriel turned around, Toriel’s mouth was curled into a small smile, and Frisk’s eyes were shining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 26/7/18: added a bit of descriptive worldbuilding. I was planning to wait until I finish the fic before I mass-edit it, but I kinda saw a big missed opportunity there and wanted to rectify it.


	9. Forgive and Froggit

“Flowey,” said Toriel, “when you lived, uh, out there, alone, how did you prefer to sleep?”

Flowey stayed silent as he stood in the middle of Home’s living room. How odd. He was used to coming here every time he wanted, but always sneaky, always hidden. Watching the house, watching Toriel from the corners or from behind the furniture. He didn’t get her to take him in since those first few timelines.

But now he was welcome in the house, right in the open centre, and it was _wrong_.

“I saw you sleeping by the flowerbeds,” said Toriel. “Is that what you like, my child? Does the presence of other flowers bring you comfort?”

“What? No,” said Flowey, “that’s stupid. And don’t call me that.”

“Huh? Are you referring to me calling you my child?” Toriel sat down on her knees. “Forgive me, my— uh, Flowey. Forgive me, Flowey. I do not intend any offense. This is merely the way I speak.”

“I think he prefers warmth, Miss Toriel,” said Frisk, leaning over. “Light too, maybe. Definitely sunlight. He’s a flower, after all.”

“Ah, but in that case, when the sun sets, he would get cold...” said Toriel.

Flowey shuddered as he remembered a handful of uncomfortable nights. “That’s stupid! I was fine out there. You’re not doing me some favour by taking me in. I’m not some stray for you to pity!”

“Sorry, Flowey,” said Frisk.

“We are merely trying to find a way to make you comfortable here,” said Toriel. “We meant no condescension.”

“In any case,” said Frisk, “I think Flowey should sleep near the fire pit. I mean, magical fire is safe, right? It’s warm and there’s no danger.”

So he would be sleeping in the middle of the living room, the most central, public room in the house. Whereas Frisk gets their own room.

And they pretend to treat him like _family_.

“That is a nice idea,” said Toriel, “but it is not very practical. I have a habit of reading in the living room up until late. And a habit of cooking early in the morning. Flowey deserves a quiet place to sleep. Quiet and relatively private. Would you be okay sharing a room with him?”

Frisk lit up brighter than the glow of the sunlight over the flowerbed. “I’d love to! I-I mean, if Flowey’s okay with it.” They looked at him with wide, expectant eyes, “Are you?”

“Whatever,” said Flowey, trying to ignore the smile that spread across Frisk’s face. It isn’t like it’s going to last or anything. He might as well play along.

“I still think the fire pit is a good idea, however,” said Toriel. “There is plenty space in your room, so how about we build one there?”

"Is it safe?" asked Frisk. "Wouldn't it spread or smoke?"

"Oh, no," said Toriel. "No need to worry about that. Magical fire, like the ones I light, does not spread and emits no smoke."

"Why do we have fireplaces then, and chutes?" asked Flowey.

"Relic of an older time, I believe, makes houses feel a little cozier. In any case," Toriel turned to Frisk. "Would you like to help me set it up?"

Frisk nodded so hard they were just short of bouncing.

 

* * *

 

  
Half an hour later, Frisk and Toriel finished building the firepit. Well, ‘building’ was a bit of an overstatement, as it was just a matter of rolling the rug to the side, making a circle of stones on the floor, and dumping a bunch of logs in the middle.

But it was still the most uncomfortable half-hour Flowey experienced in a long time. He watched them work in silence. They really were trying. They put in all this effort for him. Why?

He couldn’t understand. He will never understand.

“Well,” said Toriel, “now that we have finished with it, I believe it is time for dinner. But first, I must apologise, Flowey. I did not prepare anything special in advance as I did not know whether you will accept my offer. And now, it is too late to prepare anything. We are having snail pie tonight.”

“Okay, whatever,” said Flowey. Snail pie was never his favourite food, but he hadn’t eaten it for while now. It would be nice to reminisce on better times, as fleeting as the feeling may be.

“Tomorrow, however, I would like to prepare something special,” said Toriel. “So, if you had to choose, which pie flavour do you prefer? Cinnamon or butterscotch?”

“I want—“ wait, why should he make it easy for them? “—I want apple pie!”

“Apple?” asked Frisk “Do they, uh, even have those down here?”

“Yes,” said Toriel, “but it is very much a delicacy. Tremendously rare and expensive.”

So rare, in fact, and so expensive, that even the royal family had only obtained some occasionally. There were more in storage, but they were reserved for outstandingly happy circumstances, like weddings or births.

The first time he ate anything with apples was when mom and dad adopted Chara. Joy and celebration filled the Underground as a new member of the royal family was ‘born’. The last time he ate apples was during one of his many previous timelines. He raided Asgore’s storage room and stuffed himself full in the dark, over and over again, until he was sick of them.

“Flowey,” said Toriel, “are you sure that this is what you want? Would you turn your nose up at the sight of cinnamon or butterscotch pie?”

“Apple pie or bust!”

“Very well,” said Toriel, “I will make the effort.”

“Can I help?” asked Frisk.

“No. Forgive me, my child, but I cannot allow you to leave the Ruins. It is too dangerous.”

“Ah. I, uh... I meant with the baking...”

Flowey’s head shot up. He looked back and forth between Frisk and Toriel.

“Oh, of course you may, my child,” said Toriel, “as long as you are willing to wake up early.”

Oh come on, Frisk will help baking? The two of them were just ganging up on him now and it wasn’t fair.

 

* * *

   
Later that evening, Toriel made some final arrangements before sending Frisk and Flowey to bed: she lit up the fire, draped a blanket around where Flowey would sleep (‘ _just in case you would want some extra warmth’_ ) and spread some organic fertilisers on the floor. Frisk wanted to help, but she insisted against it. Something about exertion interfering with sleep.

Once Toriel was done, she kissed Frisk and tucked them in. She would have done the same to Flowey, had he let her. But he didn’t, so she just signed, smiled, and bid him goodnight. The warm look in her eyes lingered in his mind even after she shut the door.

Only once she was gone, did he find the will to speak. “Hey, Frisk?”

“Hmm?” Frisk flipped over from their back to their side, facing him.

“Doesn’t any of this bother you? I mean, you used to have this room for yourself, but now you have to share it with me... you’re gonna have to share _everything_ with me from now on.”

“I don’t mind.” the light from the fire danced across Frisk’s face, making it seem even warmer than it already was. “There’s no one I would rather share this with.”

Ugh. It wasn’t even flirting anymore. This is the sort of thing you’d tell your married partner, of twenty years, when they’re on their deathbed. He better just ignore it.

“But I mean,” said Flowey, “You have to have this massive firepit in your room now and it’s an eyesore and it it’s really bright when you’re trying to sleep...”

“It’s not any brighter than a nightlight, really,” said Frisk. “And I actually like it, a lot. It makes this room feel cosy. It’s nice.”

Frisk had a point. Back when this room belonged to him, he wouldn’t have minded having a firepit here. Just like how he didn’t mind it when mom and dad took Chara in.

And now the situation flipped. He was the Chara now. But unlike Chara, he’ll never end up truly being part of this family. It was a poor excuse for a family anyways, broken and incomplete, whether he was part of it or not.

But right now, it really was nice here. The flames painted the walls in soft shades of orange, and emitted enough warmth to make the entire room feel like a blanket. He will sleep now, and worry in the morning.

“Goodnight, Flowey.”

“...Night.”

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

  
They were small. So small. An ant begging to be squashed. But still standing tall, their brows furrowed. Still defiant.

He will squeeze it out of them. And he did.

Burned alive, impaled by shurikens and vines, blown apart, decimated. But every time he brought them back, their spirit came with them.

The battlefield shifted. Multicolour burst out of dark. Their friends were _his_ now, and he was even more powerful. Their eyes widened and they shook as they gazed upon the true him.

Stabbed by star-tips, wiped out by rainbows and beams of light, torn apart and pinned down by darkness. This was his birthright. They belonged to him. They will never escape him again.

But then everything shifted again. And their arms were around him. So warm, so very warm. They stood in the darkness in front of his torn and battered form, and offered their hand. Their weapon on the ground. What were they doing?

He didn’t deserve this. He will never deserve this.

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

  
When Flowey awoke, the blanket Toriel had left him was pulled over his head like a hood, and the fire in front of him was still burning. He shook off the blanket and looked to the side. Frisk’s bed was empty.

He took a moment to think of his odd nightmare. He had nightmares before, but they were different: full of bullets, blood, screams, and golden flowers seeds sticking into his fur, climbing up his neck, up his cheek, into his mouth and nose and eyes, drowning him under.

But never anything like _that_.

Then again, could he even call it a nightmare? It didn’t scare him while it happened. It didn’t wake him in the middle of the night in cold sweat. Maybe he liked it. Maybe he _enjoyed_ doing those things to Frisk. It would be simpler if he did. If he could just admit it to himself.

The door swung open and revealed Frisk. They wore a purple apron with delta rune sewn into the chest and a pair of oven mittens too large for their hands. “Ah, Flowey, are you awake? Breakfast’s ready.”

“Breakfast?” Flowey sniffed the air and caught the pleasant aroma of baked sweets. “You actually made apple pie?”

“Well, yeah,” said Frisk. “It’s a small one, and a bit low on apples. But it’s still a real pie with real apples. I hope you like it~”

With a sigh, he followed them to the living room, where Toriel prepared the table.

“Hello, Flowey,” she said. “We made the pie you asked for. Are you, um, comfortable with chairs?”

Again with her fussing. With a flat face, Flowey rolled his stem to table height.

“Ah, that is good,” said Toriel. “We do not have to worry about that, then. Please situate yourself comfortably near the table.”

Flowey considered disobeying, but then Frisk walked in, carrying a pie tray in their thick-gloved hands. The aroma filled the room , sweet yet balanced, and so vivid Flowey could almost taste it.

And so he stood by the table and watched as Toriel cut the small pie into thin slices and put one in every plate.

 

* * *

 

  
The pie didn’t taste anything like he remembered; they couldn’t use as many apples as the recipe demanded.

Somehow, it tasted even better.

The fresh, sour-sweet taste of the apples melded into the perfect, soft and chewy dough. Even hearing the scrapes of forks and knives over the hard and crispy pie-tops made his mouth water all over again.

He was wrong about Frisk. Clearly, they did have magic. They must have had. It was just entirely cooking-based. This pie was the best he ever ate. And now all his slices were gone. There weren’t even any crumbs left over. All he could do is stand and watch as Toriel and Frisk ate their pieces.

Darn it, why didn’t he savour it for longer? Admittedly, eating gradually was difficult; when using eating utensils is uncomfortable, the best way to eat is to lay your chin on your plate and _inhale_ the food. But he could have at least chewed it more.

He wouldn’t get to eat anything like that again anytime soon. Toriel must’ve blown a massive portion of her savings on getting enough apples, and this entire ordeal must’ve pushed her patience beyond the barrier. He couldn’t ask Frisk to reload, either, because that would require him how much he likes their baking. They probably wouldn’t agree anyways.

“Flowey?” said Frisk, “hey... Flowey—“

Flowey whipped his head towards them. They held another plate out to him, bearing an untouched slice.

“Want this?” They held one of their pie slices out to him.

“No.”

“Okay,” Frisk pulled back, “tell me if you change your mind.”

He kept watching, and stewing, as Frisk ate their next slice, with at least three left over. What were they even thinking, offering him a pie like that. Didn’t they realise that they’re not going to get the opportunity to eat apple pie again, either? They were the ones that baked it, too. Didn’t they want the chance to relish what they’ve made?

He shifted his eyes to Toriel, and then back to Frisk. Back and forth, over and over. The two of them savoured the pie to its fullest, the way he couldn’t. They baked this pie together, and now they enjoyed it together. What was he even doing here?

Okay, maybe Frisk didn’t enjoy this so much. They rolled a large chunk around in their plate whilst avoiding his eyes. Did they notice how he glared at them? Even sitting here in silence, he was an intruder.

Another slice pointed at his face. "Hey, Flowey,” said Frisk, “say aaah—”

_He didn’t deserve this._

“No!” He whipped his vine, and the slice went flying. The plate shattered on the floor.

Frisk stared at him, holding their bruised wrist.

“Flowey!” Toriel stood up, bumping the table.

 

* * *

 

And then it was all erased. Toriel was sitting again, focused on her food, as Frisk rolled the same chunk of pie around their plate.

He made them load, not twenty-four hours after Toriel had taken him in. Even Frisk realised that they’d have to bend the fabric of spacetime itself in order to fit him into this family.

Frisk run their fork over the crumbs for a bit more before setting it down. “Well,” they said, “I’m full. Miss Toriel, may I put the rest of my slices in the fridge?”

“Of course you may, my child,” said Toriel. “You, uh, do not have to keep asking for permission for these kind of matters. This is your home now. And that goes for you too, Flowey.”

Flowey looked away.

“Thank you, Miss Toriel,” said Frisk. “Uh, Flowey? It’s okay if you want to help yourself to any of my slices. I don’t think I’ll be able to finish it on my own, anyway.”

 

* * *

 

After breakfast was done, it was time for schooling. And when Toriel said time for schooling, she meant ‘time to sit quietly and listen to her read out from a book about something nobody but her cares about’.

It was something he never understood, and as his younger self, was too timid to ask. Education was meant for the benefit of the pupil, supposedly, and yet it always seemed to reinforce the power of the teacher. Even now, at her most tolerant, and attempting to be her most equal, Toriel towered atop her armchair. Frisk and Flowey, in the meanwhile, sat on the floor, eye-level with her shins. Commoners kneeling before a queen.

In any case, this time, her Topic of Choice was frogs. Figures. They’re the only creatures on this planet who like bugs as much as she does.

“Frogs and toads both belong the biological order Anura,” said Toriel. “Frogs have soft and smooth skins. Toads have rough and hard skins. Anura are amphibian, which means that they begin their life in water, but can survive and manoeuvre on land. They do, however, require their skin to be wet to breathe.”

“...Because they breathe through their skin, right?” asked Frisk.

“That is correct,” Toriel pushed her glasses up her nose and smiled at them.

"Are froggits the same way?"

"Yes. Of course, they are bigger and more resilient, which means that they can last away from water for longer. But otherwise, frogs and froggits are very similar. Good question, my child.”

Frisk smiled and leaned in as though Toriel had reached down to pet them. They still craved her approval, huh...

“Let me continue,” Toriel ran a fingertip over her tongue and turned the page. “Let us see, ah, yes: their typical croaks and ribbits are produced through the sack in their throat. They may produce noise for a variety of reasons, including but not limited to fear, being touched, communication with others...”

“How do frogs hear, then?” asked Frisk.

Ugh. Seriously? They were _curious_ about this stuff?

“Hear?” asked Toriel.

“Yeah!” said Frisk. “You said they communicate with other frogs and that’s why they ribbit. But how can they communicate if they can’t even hear each other? Communication is hard enough as it is!”

Ugh, how _disgustingly_ insightful.

“I... uh, believe the answer is somewhere here," said Toriel. “Let me look for the diagram...” She flipped through the book.

“They have their ears inside their head, dummy,” said Flowey. “They have ear canals and eardrums but not external... structure... things.” Which was pretty smart, all things considered. One less floppy extruding thing that could slow you down in the air or the water or get hurt easily. The more you keep inside, the less that is in danger. It's nothing like flower petals, which are bright and colourful and stand out when you're trying to hide and make you a neon target. Which get caught on things and can be pinned down or impaled. Which you can't even use for anything you actually want to do.

He wished he could keep _everything_ inside.

“That is correct,” said Toriel. “Here is the diagram.” She held the book out for Frisk, showing a colourful diagram of frog ear anatomy.

“That’s so cool!” said Frisk.

Wow, they found this stuff exciting? Admittedly, back as Asriel, he’d have found this fascinating too, considering this book talked about frogs that weren’t even in the Underground. But Frisk came from the surface anyway. What were they doing, delighting in the world they had given up.

That said, he knew a thing or two about frogs. He read this book, after all, over and over. Maybe he could use it to his advantage.

“Well,” said Toriel, “now that this interesting tangent is over, let us continue: the Froggit is, in many ways, a magically-imbued and more evolved version of the Common Frog.”

“Barely,” said Flowey, “barely more evolved.”

“That, uh... that is not very nice, Flowey,” said Toriel.

“But it’s true.” At least, as far as Frisk and Toriel should know. If he really wanted to be pedantic, he could point out that evolution doesn't work that way. But he couldn't think of a funny way to say that.

Frisk pinched their chin, which made them look insufficiently impressed by his superior smarts and wicked wit. He should try harder than that.

“In any case,” said Toriel, “the froggits of the Underground tend to reside together in communal pools in the Ruins and...uh... in the Ruins.”

“There are also large froggit populations in New Home and Waterfall,” said Flowey.

“Really? Waterfall?” asked Frisk, “and, uh, New Home?”

“Yeah!” said Flowey. “The froggits in Waterfall live right in the middle of the largest pond. They’re the _definition_ of secluded, even more than the froggits in the Ruins! But the froggits in New Home are the complete opposite of that. They even think they can fight. They have their own sort of tiny private force of froggits who call themselves ‘Final Froggits’ and like to act all powerful and heroic. Even though they’re just stupid froggits too and they’re not!”

“Yes.” Toriel gripped the edges of her book. “All of that is true, but it is not necessary for you to learn, Frisk. Waterfall and New Home are both outside The Ruins, and so, they are not places we are likely to visit.” She loomed over, her eyes icy. “Flowey, please try to limit this sort of talk to a minimum. You may come and go as you wish, but please be conscious of the fact that Frisk cannot. It is a painful fact. There is no need to risk making it even more painful in any way.”

I... I wasn’t...” Flowey _wasn’t_ trying to rub it in. He already gave up on convincing them to leave. He was just sharing a cool piece of trivia with them. And it wouldn’t be that bad for them out there anyway. They already survived out there once!

But then again, something _did_ happen to them out there that made them reset. And the very fact that they were trapped here was his fault.

He could have put an end to the whole war-on-humans thing if he outed himself and told Asgore and the monster public to stop. The populace wouldn't have been happy about it, but they'd have listened to him. And yet he didn’t do any of that. He had every opportunity in the world to ease Frisk's struggle, and he didn’t take it. He _wanted_ to see them struggle, put their pacifism to the test. He _hoped_ to see that same pacifism shatter in their face.

What was he doing here?

“Toriel, it’s fine,” said Frisk. “I like learning about the outside world, even though I don’t really feel tempted to go out there myself. Learning is fun!”

The look on Toriel’s face softened into a smile. “Ah, that is a good attitude to have. Very well then, tell them anything you want, Flowey.”

Yeah, no. The mood was ruined. Why did he even try to impress Frisk to begin with?

“In any case,” said Frisk, “I don’t have any shifts in the bakery today. Can I go visit one of the communal pools in the Ruins? It sounds like it would be fun.”

“You may, my child,” said Toriel, “I would not be able to accompany you, however. I am afraid that froggits tend to find me intimidating. It would be imprudent to intrude upon their habitats. Do you know your way to the nearest one?”

Frisk nodded. “The spiders gave me a map of the Ruins.”

“Okay, then, have fun,” said Toriel. She closed the book and leaned down to pat Frisk on the head.

Would she ever feel comfortable enough to do this for him? Would he be comfortable enough to let her?

“Hey Flowey,” said Frisk. “Will you be coming too?”

“Whatever.”

 

* * *

 

  
As soon as the two of them were outside home’s view, Flowey knew that he had to brace for the _question_. He watched Frisk open their mouth, and say-  
"Are whimsalots and astigmatisms soldiers too?"

"Huh?" That was _not_ the question he was expecting. "...yeah. They are. They protect the whimsuns and the looxes of New Home, respectively. You ran into them?"

"Yeah. Mettaton hired them to get my soul."

Oh. Right. He forgot about that. Frisk spent last timeline being attacked by all sides.

"The whimsalots probably keep the whimsuns away from Asgore, too..." said Frisk. "Say, are whimsalots like whimsuns? Y'know... empathetic?"

"You and your human theories..." said Flowey. "Not as far as I know. Whimsalots actually are somewhat tougher than whimsuns. But only because the average leaf from the leaf piles here is too."

"That's the trade you have to make, huh... you get a little tougher, you lose a little bit of your empathy for others.... I don't think it's worth it."

Well, you're wrong, Frisk. From the look of it, empathy didn't save _you_.

They walked in silence some more, and then it happened.  
"So, Flowey,"said Frisk, "how did you like it with us so far?”

Oh. _There_ was the question. He should be blunt. "I don’t like it.”

“Ah.” Frisk looked down at their feet. “I’m sorry to hear that. I actually thought it was going quite well.”

“’ _Well_ ’? Are you blind?! This was a disaster!”

“Was it, though? I mean, sure, there were a couple of hiccups here and there, but it wasn’t bad, or anything. You even looked like you enjoyed some parts of it.”

“Like what?”

“Like sleeping around the firepit, or eating that pie. Oh, and by the way, if you want to eat my slices, it’s fine. I don’t even mind reloading for you until you get your fill.”

“No. And speaking of that pie, and, uh, reloading... You needed to reload. You needed to reload because of me. Doesn’t it show just how much of a sham this whole thing is?”

The look in Frisk’s eyes grew tender. “I don’t mind reloading for you, Flowey. I-I mean, as long as it’s not hurting anyone.”

"But I _did_ hurt someone. I hurt you."

"It doesn't hurt anymore, though." Frisk rubbed their wrist.

"Yes, because you RELOADED. My point is, you needed to reload, because if you didn’t, Toriel would have gotten really mad. And you knew it. You knew you can’t trust Toriel and I to get along. You knew that if Toriel knew what I did, she’d... she’d throw me out.”

“I don’t think she’d have thrown you out. She’s strict, sometimes, sure, but she means well. I don’t think she’d have even punished you that harshly. She, uh, actually made me a promise, that she'll never, _ever_ , abandon a child she had taken in."

“Why reload, then?”

“Well, I didn't want to go around with a bruised wrist, that's one reason." They held their wrist still.

"...But not the only reason."

"No. To be honest with you, I was worried that punishment, any punishment, would scare you away.”

So they trusted Toriel just fine now. It was him, only him, whom they didn’t trust. He may have deserved this, but it didn’t make it any less bitter.

“It’s not just individual things, Frisk....” said Flowey. “We’re just... we’re not a family. We keep pretending we are, but we’re not. Hell, even you know that. You keep flirting with me!”

“Oh...” Frisk’s eyes grew sad. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I-I mean, I’m not even sure what I was thinking. I’m sorry. I won’t flirt with you anymore.”

...No more flirting? An odd pang rang inside Flowey, but he remained silent.

“In all honesty, most times I flirt with, well, anyone, it’s not really because I expect anything out of it. I’m just throwing everything I can at the other person, socialising-wise, so maybe something will stick. I-I mean, I did flirt a couple of times last timeline to try to get people to spare my life. But uh... I mean, I hope I deserve at least that.” Frisk let out an awkward smile.

So, _insincere_ flirting. That’s what he’ll miss out on. He told himself.

“In any case, it’s fine if you don’t consider us a family,” said Frisk. “I don’t really consider Toriel a mom or you a brother, either. I actually did flirt with Toriel once last timeline, but she wasn’t very receptive.”

No. He will not get jealous of his own mom!

“...And I _also_ called her mom,” said Frisk.

“Sicko,” said Flowey.

“Yeah... she reacted more or less the same way. A little more polite, though.” They smiled again, but their eyebrows furrowed, just a little. There was pain there.

The truth trickled inside him. Frisk wanted to be loved. They wanted to be loved so much that they stopped aiming for any _specific_ type of love. That’s messed up.

A picture flashed in his mind. _The two of them standing in the void. Disbelief in Frisk’s eyes._

He pulled back to reality just in time to catch Frisk’s next words.

“I did try to be a family with Toriel this timeline. But I don’t really think it worked.”

The damage was done, huh.

“Why bother keeping with it, then?” asked Flowey. “Why keep pretending to be a family?”

“We don’t have to be a family,” said Frisk. “Maybe we should just be a bunch of people who live together, and care for each other. Isn’t that enough?”

“I don’t care about either of you, though.”

“But we care about you, Flowey!”

“Ribbit!”

The loud croak shot up Flowey’s stem. A froggit stood in front of them.

“Oh, hello!” said Frisk.

“(Hello, human, and flower,)” said the froggit. “(I need your help.)”

“Ugh, what is it?” asked Flowey.

“(I feel as though I should be somewhere specific right now, but I’m not sure where it is.)”

“Maybe you need to get home,” said Frisk. “Actually, conveniently enough, I think that’s where we’re headed too, so you can just come with us.”

“(Oh, thank you.)”

Ugh, froggits really were dumb, and Frisk too. There are _three_ pools in the Ruins. Why are they so sure this pool is this froggit’s pool? And now the froggit is going to come with them and the two of them wouldn’t be alone anymore.

That is, he wanted to be alone to pry into the _stuff_. Not for any other reason!

The three of them walked in silence from there on, because froggits did not make for good conversations. They didn’t have a large enough vocabulary.

But not five minutes into their walk, a shadow extended behind a corner. Flowey swooped a vine and tripped Frisk down.

“Ugh!” cried Frisk.

And then a spiral of bugs, spinning like a frisbee, flew past.

“FILTHY HUMAN!” cried the assailant. It was a migosp, but unlike most migosps, it wore a leather jacket, and its antennas were slicked back with a thick gel that still glistened and dripped. _Oh_ , it was _that_ guy.

“Huh?” asked Frisk.

“(I’m going to sit this one out,)” said the froggit. Figures.

“Oh.” Frisk turned their head to look warmly upon the Froggit. ”That’s okay. And thank you, Flowey.”

Couldn’t it wait until after battle?

Then again, the Migosp wasn’t attacking right now. It still didn’t have the chance to tell Frisk its poor excuse for a manifesto.

“Uh,” Frisk turned to look at the Migosp. “...you’re attacking on your own?”

“I DON’T NEED HELP FROM ANYONE!” said the Migosp. “I WIL NEVER CONFORM!”

“Oh, wow.” Frisk’s face brightened. “That’s amazing!” They leapt back on their feet just before another bug-spiral swept across the floor.

“BAH! YOU WON’T FOOL ME! BACK WHEN EVERYONE HATED YOU, I THOUGHT YOU WERE COOL. BUT NOW YOU’VE GOTTEN POPULAR AND EVERYONE LOVE YOU, SO I DON’T!”

“Yeah! Think for yourself! Don’t obey stereotypes!” They slipped to the side to dodge another attack.

Was Frisk really cheering on someone who is trying to kill them? He knew they were a pacifist, but wow.

"YEAH!" said the Migosp, "I EVEN GOT THIS COOL JACKET AND COOL HAIRSTYLE TO _SHOW_ HOW LITTLE I CONFORM. I GOT IT OFF THE INTERNET!"

 _Internet_. It didn't even mention what site these things were from. Just said _internet_ like it was supposed to impress Frisk.

"It looks really cool!" said Frisk, smiling as they clutched their shoulder where the attack grazed them.

"What? No it doesn't," said Flowey. "Oh golly, can't you see how _pathetic_ it all is?!"

The Migosp's confident pose deflated, "p-pathetic?"

"You keep bragging about how you _think independently_ , how you _don't conform_ , how you're _different_. But that's not true at all! Your whole rebel act, you've got it off TV, didn't you? You're just acting like you think a rebel should act."

"I, UH... I WAS ONLY INSPIRED BY TV!"

"Yeah!" said Frisk, "there's no shame in taking inspiration! And even so, the way you dress isn't nearly as important as the way you _think_."

"But you're not thinking independently, either!" said Flowey. "You just do the opposite of what everyone else are doing. That doesn't involve any more independent thinking than doing the same as everyone else. You still define yourself by the norm!"

"OHH..." The Migosp looked down.

"Hey, don't be like that, Flowey," said Frisk. "They're just trying to be different."

Shut up, Frisk. Can't you see I'm getting you spared?

"Well, they're failing," said Flowey.

"Ribbit! (Excuse me, may I intervene for a moment?)" said the froggit.

"Huh?" Frisk turned towards the froggit. "Sure, say what you want."

"(Young migosp, don't feel disheartened,)" said the Froggit. "(You may have fumbled in the execution, but there is nothing wrong with your intentions.)"

"HUH?"

"(The key to true independent thinking is complying with what you agree with, and rejecting what you disagree with. You don't have to conform entirely just because you're a migosp. And you don't have to rebel all the time just to stand out. You should aim to find a comfortable middle.)"

"Yeah!" said Frisk, "that was a really smart thing to say!"

The Migosp stood up straight again, eyes shining. "THANK YOU, FROGGIT."

"(I'm glad I could help.)"

"YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT!" The migosp pulled the collars of its jacket straight. "I'M KEEPING THIS STYLE. BUT I DON'T WANT TO FIGHT THIS HUMAN ANYMORE SO I WON'T!"

Frisk let out a sigh of relief, "that's the spirit."

And so the Migosp swaggered off, leaving the three of them on their own.

"That was really wise of you to say," said Frisk to the froggit.

"(Thank you.)"

"No, really," said Frisk, "that was a really really smart and wise thing to say!"

"(Thank you...)"

Flowey leaned over to try to catch Frisk's eye. Didn't they notice that he said some pretty smart things too? He might have not been as nice about it, but still. And the froggit's words weren't even all that smart, anyways. It was all just common sense.

"Some people say that froggits are stupid, but that's not true at all!" said Frisk.

"(Uh, huh...)"

Wait, was Frisk trying to prove a point to him because he called froggits ' _barely evolved_ '?

"Froggits aren't stupid! You guys have this sort of folksy, simple life wisdom! That's not stupidity at all!"

"(Uh...)"

Okay, he couldn't even be mad at them for being preachy. The way they dug themself in, managing to look more racist than he ever was, was quite a wonder to behold.

Though as a group, he would have preferred it if they walked a little faster. That way, maybe they can avoid running into that group of nice, nerdy looxes, or any shy, skinny moldsmal, or that one vegetoid who likes binging on cake.

 

* * *

 

 

Fortunately, the rest of the walk went without any further encounters, and soon, a misty smell filled the air. The froggit utter-croaked a word of gratitude and hopped off, faster than Frisk and Flowey could follow. And Frisk stood in place for a moment after, waving with their wrist, with their elbow glued to their waist and an awkward smile stuck on their face. They must've realised how their words came off. He decided against rubbing it in their face.

An few turns later, they arrived at the communal pool to a cacophony of croaks and ribbits and _meows_.

The pool was inside a circular hall, where the floor ended mere steps after the entrance. Water, tourquise-tinged and murky, filled the rest of the room. It was clean water, safe to drink, if you don't mind drinking _froggit_. But it was coloured this way because that's what froggits thought water on the surface looked like. The walls were covered in moss and moss-vines, ranging in colour from the brightest green to the beginning of blue. Vines also hang from the ceiling at several spots, and at the edge of the pool, pulled to the side like curtains. On the water surface floated large lily pads, ranging in size from around the size of Frisk's palms, held together, to several metres across. Some bore large pink-and-white flowers, but most did not. Some of these pads were clustered together, and some were isolated. Froggits occupied many of these pads, but many else were empty. The air was dank and heavy and smelled of _froggit_.

Frisk stood back at the entrance, their eyes wide, taking in the room. They must've been the first human who ever stepped foot here. This was the sort of wonder he could only yearn for.

But then, their pupils moved, left to right, scanning the room. Flowey looked away from them and back to the pool. What were they looking for? Oh, that one Froggit. Were they planning to apologise? They will only dig themself deeper.

That one froggit was nowhere to be seen. It was like trying to look for a needle in a sack of needles, except the needles hopped around and dove to places where you couldn't see them and croaked so loud it broke your concentration.

From the corner of his eye, Frisk stepped forwards. They stood by the edge of the pool, holding their hand to their eyebrows to shadow over their eyes, and looked around some more. What were they doing? There were no bright lights here, and their hands did not make for good binoculars.

And then a sound let out. High pitched, but so soft that Flowey almost didn't notice it over the ambient croaking. But little by little, the sound grew and grew.

' _Wah...'_

_'Wah...'_

_'Wah...'_

Oh damnit. He forgot that this was that time of the year. Unwanted memories flooded his mind. He shouldn't have agreed to come here.

Frisk looked around some more, around and around. They scratched their head, and then glanced down. Their eyes widened just as the sources of the _wah_ burst out of the water.

' _WAH!'_

_'WAH!'_

_'WAH!'_

"Oh my god." Frisk kneeled down, their eyes still glued to the water. "They're... they're..."

The water splashed against the platform, drenching the floor beneath Frisk's feet. The _wahs_ only got louder.

"They're so cute!" cried Frisk. "Look at them!"

Nah uh. No. He wasn't getting any closer to the pool edge. But he didn't need to. Not once Frisk cupped their hands and let the little _wah_ makers hop onto their palms.

"They're like... little otamatone puppy-tadpoles!" Frisk turned to him, grinning.

In their hands, bounced a couple of little black balls, slightly larger and rounder than the pads of Frisk's thumb. They had beady little eyes and wide little smiles and little tails that rubbed and wrapped around Frisk's fingers. Their little _wahs_ only calmed when Frisk brought them up to nozzle against their cheek.  
Frisk really could find _anything_ cute, huh.

"Be careful now, little guys," said Frisk as they lowered their hands back into the pool.

He watched Frisk some more as they swirled their hand in the water, circling around the tadpoles, dancing and playing with them, petting them. The _wahs_ were more discordant now, some loud, some soft, presumably depending on whether each individual tadpole had gotten their share of attention from Frisk. He never thought about it before, but the otamatone analogy really did fit in regards to baby froggits. Otamatones are a crime against music.

And that's why he drained that pool during that one timeline, and let all the little ones dry. They were just so _loud_. So irritating. Even though it was _him_ who was intruding in their house, just like how he intruded on Frisk and Toriel now. Even though he could just leave if the noise bothered him. Even though the tadpoles didn't mean anything bad; they were just curious and excitable. Unlike _his_ curiosity, their curiosity was harmless, innocent, even. But _his_ curiosity was the one that won out, always, no matter how many people he hurt while pursuing it.

He was a _god_. And being a god meant that he had to right to do anything he wanted. Even if he wanted to doom a bunch of babies to dry to death. A bunch of babies that now giggled and played in front of him.

What was he doing here?

"Ribbit! (That's enough now, come along!)"

In front of Frisk, a large froggit sat in a lily pad. A familiar large, wide froggit. The tadpoles scurried off beneath the pad and fell silent.

He didn't know Dr Craq was here today.

"Oh," said Frisk. They pulled their hands from the the water and looked up at Dr Craq. "Hello! Are they yours?"

"(I'm afraid not,)" said Dr Craq. "(I have no children of my own yet. I am taking care of them for today. In any case, you must be the human I've heard so much about.)"

"Yeah, that's me. Uh, I'm sorry if I, uh..."

"(There's no need for that. I've heard nothing but good things about you. You have my trust. I am Dr Craq, PhD in Economics, Child Psychology.)"

"Nice to meet you! I'm Frisk and this-" they motioned towards him, "-is my friend Flowey."

Dr Craq nodded at him. He scowled and looked away.

"In any case," said Frisk, "if they aren't your kids, who are their parents?"

"(This group are the offspring of many different froggits who live here. But socially-speaking, _all_ of them belong to _all_ the froggits here. Froggits raise their children communally.)"

"Oh." Frisk's eyes softened, and their brows furrowed, just a little. They dropped their gaze. "Oh..."

"(Does this information sadden you, Frisk?)"

"I... uh..."

"(I understand why you might feel that way. Boss monsters, and in fact, most monsters as a whole, would not benefit from such a system. I'd imagine humans are the same way.)"

"Yeah..." Frisk held their arm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to judge you."

"(Like I said, it is fine. However, let me assure you that this is, in fact, the system that does young froggits the most good. You may have noticed that us froggits have a propensity for absent-minded and confused behaviour. By staying in large groups, we can keep an eye on one another, and on our children, ensuring that no one is lost.")

...No. That doesn't really work. Froggits gets lost and confused all the time. Then again, maybe they'll get lost even more often if they couldn't rely on each other. There was no way of knowing.

In any case, against _him_ , no amount of community could save the froggits. When he drained the pool, _all_ the froggits had to watch _all_ their children die.

He should put his head in the water and never pull up.

"Ah, that makes sense," said Frisk, clasping their hands behind their back. "I-I mean, I think you probably know that stuff better than I do, _Dr_ Craq."

He thought he caught a flirty tone in their words, but shook the thought off and concentrated on the facts. Well, yes, Dr Craq was an expert in child psychology, but also in economics. In one of his past timelines, he managed to learn why Dr Craq studied economics; it wasn't a thing you'd expect froggits to do. Dr Craq was the froggit equivalent of that rebel migosp.

Admittedly, it was a less _froggitlike_ reason than accidentally wandering into a lesson and just staying there, like he had assumed before. But it was still pretty froggitlike.  
  
"(Well, in any case, I'll be on my way now. Pleasure meeting you, Frisk.)"

"Wait!" Frisk nearly stepped into the water, "could I ask you for a favour?"

"(You may.)"

"I, uh... I met a froggit on the way here and I think I may have offended them. Could you tell them to meet me here? I want to apologise."

"(Do you know their name?)"

Frisk gulped. "No..."

"(... I think I can see where you might have offended them,)" Dr Craq side-eyed them. "(... don't worry, I'll find them and apologise for you. But try to be more sensitive next time.)"

Frisk went red. "Right, I will. Thank you very much!"

Dr Craq nodded and sailed off on its lilypad, the tadpoles tailing behind. Frisk remained standing in place, flushed and fidgeting.

"Hey, Flowey... you, uh, haven't said anything this whole time," they said.

"I had nothing to say," said Flowey, "and besides, I didn't want to interrupt you. Look at you; You're still blushing! It's like you developed a crush on it."

"Well, Dr Craq is kind, and smart. I like people like that."

Dr Craq was also, literally, a fat frog. Not that it'd stop Frisk, of course.

"What, you think that if you kissed it, it'd turn into a prince?" asked Flowey.

"I don't need my crush to be a _prince_ ," said Frisk, "I... uh... I realise that's kind of a lot to ask of someone."

"...You should heighten your standards..." Frisk deserved better. Not _him_ better, mind you, because he wasn't better. But certainly better than any monster in the Ruins.

"Huh?"

"...Nevermind. In any case, look, I was only teasing you about the crush thing. You really dropped the ball when it comes to the froggits, haven'tcha?"

"Yeah... I was trying to convince you you were wrong about them, but then I went, uh, overboard."

"That's what you get for preaching at me, dummy. Though it was _pretty_ funny watching you step inside your own mouth like that."

"To be fair, you shouldn't be racist either, Flowey."

"I was joking."

" _Toriel_ didn't seem to see it as a joke, though."

"Hmph."

Admittedly, Frisk _did_ have a good reason to oppose racism, even if they were clumsy about it. They, themselves, were a victim of what was, essentially, repeated, violent hate crimes.

"Ah well," said Frisk, stretching out their arms, "we'll both do better next time. Right?"

"You're still red," said Flowey.

"I might just be sweating, though. It's pretty moist here"

"Let me help you, then!" He swung a broad vine through the water, sending a wave towards Frisk and drenching them.

"Ugh, Flowey..." They winced through half open eyes "wha-"

He splashed them again, sending them onto the floor.

"H-hey, hey!" Their eyes widened as they saw a Froggit sailing by, stoic and still atop a spinning lilypad. "Sorry!" They cried. "I'm sorry!"

Why were they apologising for _his_ actions?

"(Oh, don't worry about it, human,)" said the froggit, remaining unperturbed at both Frisk's protests and its own rotation. "(There's plenty of water here. Have fun.)"

"See!" said Flowey, "nothing to worry abou-"

A wave of water rained down on him. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Frisk kneeling by the edge with their hand in the water.

"Why you-"

They splashed him again. He swooped his vines across the backs of their knees and sent them falling into the deep water.

But once the initial splash was over, Frisk was nowhere to be seen. They were gone, disappeared into the depths. And with that, Flowey's insides sank too.

What if Frisk couldn't swim? What if they drowned because of him? They can reload, right?

"Frisk?" he called out. "Hey, Frisk... where are you?"

Drowning was a terrible way to die, and he just subjected them to it. They must have been struggling right now, fighting with all they had to come back up as the water pulled them down and strangled them-

They water bubbled and rose into a mighty wave. He burrowed in the ground just before they hit him.

"Surprise!" cried Frisk. Ha! Did they think they got him?

When he popped back up, he made sure to smirk at their face.

"I win," he said.

"Yeah," they grinned, "that was fun! Anyways, the water's great. Wanna join me?"

"Oh yeah." He rolled his stem up. "Let me just jump right in." He rolled his stem up some more. "Just... just bend my knees and make a big cannonball and jump-" he towered over them and made his point.

"Fair enough." They swam up to the edge and leaned on it. "Thank goodness I haven't brought Toriel's phone with me, though."

Flowey rolled his eyes. What a good kid, a _good_ good kid, that _that_ was the first thing they thought of. "Apparently, your _lack_ of good habits was what saved you."

"Yeah. I... a-atchoo!" Frisk grabbed their lower face and pinched their nose. "Ugh, sorry, I-" They sneezed again.

"Oh wow," said Flowey, " didn't you say the water's _great_? It's not even cold. You sure are fragile, aren'tcha?"

"Yeah." They held a hand to their nose and mouth. "I wish I brought some tissues."

"They'd have gotten wet too, destroyed in your pocket. Well in any case, it's probably time for us to head back."

"Yeah, probably." Frisk pulled themself up. "Warm and dry sounds nice."

But just as they were about to leave the room, another froggit hopped onto their path.

The froggit who he saw kill them.

"(Hello, human! Long time no see.)"

"He-He-" Frisk sneezed again, "...hello..."

Their eyes were puffy, probably blurry, too. Which was probably a mercy at the moment.

He glared at the froggit for them.

"(Don't you remember me? We met twice before. Once when you just fell here, and then again, when you gave me a spider donut.)"

"Oh. Yeah! Yeah..." Frisk sniffed. "I remember now."

"(Is everything alright? You look unwell.)"

"They're fine," said Flowey, still glaring. He sent a vine up to grasp Frisk's wet wrist. "I'm taking them home."

"I'll... I'll see you around," said Frisk, "take care."

"(Get better soon, human.)"

 

* * *

  
  
"Oh dear," said Toriel at the sight of Frisk, who was still soaking, red-eyed, and with a runny nose. "What happened?"

"I..." Frisk sneezed again. "I... fell-"

"I pushed them in the pool," said Flowey.

"Oh." Toriel gave Flowey a hard look. "You should not have done that."

"No. I shouldn't have."

"Nonetheless, thank you for your honesty," said Toriel, "and for looking out for them. Now quickly, come inside."

A few moments later, Toriel had wrapped Frisk in a towel and sat them by the fireplace in the living room. She left both of them cups filled with boiling snail-noodle soup before rushing out the room to prepare Frisk a hot bath.

And she, again, left him alone with them.

"Hey, Flowey." Frisk sniffled. "Is everything alright?"

"Did you remember that froggit?"

"Which one? Dr Craq? Yeah, they're nice."

"No, I mean, the last one we ran into. The one who... y'know... killed you, in cold blood. Literally."

"Oh. That?" Frisk's attempt at a smile was interrupted by them sneezing, again. "...I forgot it already. No need to hold a grudge on something that, uh, didn't really happen."

"Oh." He didn't understand. Why did he care? There was a time when he was planning to do even worse to them. Hell, if that dream was anything to go by, he already did.

"Hey, Frisk," he said after a short while, "before you reset, how many times did you die?"

"A... uh... a few, I think. Not many."

"...You weren't counting? That doesn't sound like ' _a few_ ' or ' _not many_ '."

"I... uh..." Frisk let out something between a cough and a chuckle, "it took me a bit to get used to... uh... dodging... I guess. But it wasn't so bad."

Yes. Yes it was. It must have been. Dying isn't something you get used to. It's something you learn to repress.

Frisk's travels though the Underground were nothing like his timelines. Because he wasn't human, no one set out to kill him. Not outside of painful accidents, or misunderstandings, or the timelines where he set out to kill others first. But Frisk had the entire Underground after them from the start.  
He could have stopped it, but he didn't.

"Frisk..." he said, once more, "...what do you think of Asriel Dreemurr?"

"A-Asriel?" The pitch of Frisk's voice was a degree too high. "I, uh, I heard his story..."

"And what did you think of it?"

"...I thought it was sad. I still think it's sad..." Frisk's eyes were even glossier now. "I... I actually cried when I first heard it..."

He closed his eyes and saw them stroll through the corridors of New Home, idly running the pads of their fingers over furniture, pictures, his old toys, and between the pages of a diary, and averting their gaze at the sight of those who came into their path. With every word they heard, their face fell, and crumpled.

After that last froggit, they stopped. They had to catch their breath and hold their mouth. And when they stood in front of Sans, they were still puffy-eyed and glum.

He snapped back to reality, where they sat in front of him, sipping soup and softly coughing.

That was a prime opportunity to tease them about being sensitive, and call them a crybaby. But he didn't do that, instead, he said "you cried over someone who died a century ago? Why?"

"I...I guess it was the moment where it all came together. Why the monsters were attacking me. Why Toriel seemed so lonely. I... I realised that the person I would be fighting wasn't some evil overlord, just a broken man in mourning."

...So in other words, nothing to do with him. Good. They shouldn't cry about him.

"...but more than anything," said Frisk, "I...I think I felt sorry for Chara and Asriel. I cried that Chara died like this, so soon and sudden, after they found happiness here. And... I cried for Asriel. I cried that his pacifism cost him his life. I cried over how unfair it was. It just.... it just wasn't fair that I managed to get so lucky and he couldn't."

"Oh..." His face burned. They really thought highly of him, haven't they. They didn't know a thing. "...there's something you need to know about Asriel."

"Huh?"

"Asriel wasn't the person you think he was. He wasn't a hero, or even a pacifist, he was just a- a stupid, worthless coward!"

"No... you... uh, I mean, I'm not sure how he could have been, considering-"

"He was! He..." his eyes filled up, "he killed Chara and took their soul, so he could cross the barrier and take six more. But then in the village and lost his nerve and he- he-".

"...I don't think he would have killed Chara, Flowey," said Frisk softly. "It sounded like he loved them."

"He gave them buttercups... he... he fetched them the buttercups so... so the king and queen wouldn't know..."

"Oh... but I-I mean, was it just, uh, murder or-"

"Does it matter?! He got them killed. Even- even if it was their idea, he could have told them no. He could have told mom and dad. But he didn't! They died because of him. And besides- even if you excuse that, he was still going to kill people, and take their soul. Does that sound like a pacifist to you?!"

"...he wanted to break the barrier, right?" Frisk clutched the hems of their towel so tight the outlines of their fingers stuck out. "It's not... it's not something I would do. But it's not evil, either. And besides, he didn't go through with this in the end, right?"

"...because he was a coward..." said Flowey.

"That's not cowardice, Flowey," said Frisk. "It... it sounded like there were a lot more than six in the crowd he was facing. And that they were civilians, mostly. Frightened and misguided people who probably didn't deserve to die. He could have killed them all, but even though they attacked him, he refused to harm them. That's not cowardice, that's mercy."

"...his actions are why you had to fight and suffer and die. Why... why the other seven who came before you died."

"He didn't know that this would happen, though. I don't blame him. And I don't think Chara or the other humans would blame him, either."

"So you're just going to forgive him like that, huh. He doesn't even need to apologise..."

"Forgiveness does good for the sou- Mind." Frisk snuggled in their blanket and gave off the sweetest smile he had ever seen. "If Asriel was still around, I would want him to forgive himself, too."

It was then, staring at their smile, that he realised the exact weight of their forgiveness. Zero. Frisk would forgive _anyone_. Everything about this situation was precarious, built on the lies and wilful ignorance and the delusions of a naive idiot.

"...this is stupid," said Flowey. "This is never going to work."

"Huh?"

"THIS!" He motioned all around him. "I can't stay here! I can't be with you, with- with the two of you! I'm just- no!"

"Why not? I mean-"

"Because it can't! You made a mistake taking me in. You- you made a big mistake taking me in, Frisk. You shouldn't have done that. You shouldn't have even talked to me or humored my attempts to toy with you or... or..." his eyes blurred as his mouth burned and he couldn't breathe.

"Flowey..." said Frisk, "hey, listen to me, Flowey..."

He blinked his tears away. Frisk sat leaning towards him. Their hands on their lap, and their towel strewn on the floor around them.

"I want to hug you," they said. "Can I?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, if you want to imagine Froggit Tadpoles as looking like miniature Waluigis, that's fine too.
> 
> 26/7/18: corrected a small mistake (astigmatisms are looxes, not migosps)


	10. The Final Timeline

He stared at their open pose, unthinking. His eyes moved between their lap, to the space between their arms, to their eyes, and then back down. Over and over.

"I... uh..." Frisk held up their arms a little higher and a little wider, beckoning him in. He kept staring back. And like this, the two of them stayed.

Frisk put their hands back on their lap. "...Right. Yeah. I'm still all, uh, dirty and stinky from the froggit pool..."

"Yeah," said Flowey, "you are."

It was true. He didn't smell it, but he could see it on them. Their messy hair was clumped into dull-coloured, half-dry lumps, and their clothes were stained and wrinkled tight. If they hugged him now, it'd be damp, and cold.

...And uncomfortable. Though that goes without saying. All hugs are uncomfortable. He couldn't remember why Asriel ever liked them.

"...And you're probably not a huggy person anyways..." said Frisk. "Right. Sorry. I, uh, I don't know what I was thinking."

He averted his eyes off them, past the soup cup beside them, and towards the fire, which danced and crackled as it licked the logs, but never bit. A boss monster's magical fire was a marvellous entity. It embodied all the light and the warmth of fire, but none of the uncontrollable destructive potential. You could cook with magic fire. You could clear the darkness with it. You could sooth the cold. But your magic fire will never scald you or burn your house down.

No wonder he couldn't cast it anymore.

"Look, Flowey..." said Frisk, "...I'm sorry that things didn't go the way you were hoping they would. It's just... it's just that I really enjoy having you here, with me. I don't want to see you go..."

"...I shouldn't have come here in the first place, Frisk." His eyes remained on the fire. "I should've realised it'd end badly. It already happened."

"Oh." Frisk grasped their arms above their elbows, as though hugging themself. "Well, uh, for what it's worth, Asriel— even if Asriel didn't have the, uh, thing, I think I still would have been attacked by monsters. Most monsters who ever attacked me didn't have some plan to get my soul. They were just odd. Some wanted something from me and just didn't realise when they hurt me. Others were actually trying to help me. Stuff like that. They were misguided. I don't have hard feelings for them for anything, and I certainly don't have any for Asriel, considering that it's not even his fault."

"So he only got _half_ the Underground to hunt you down."

"Well, that's not true either, but in any case, my point is: you're being too harsh on Asriel. And on yourself. It doesn't have to go—"

"Frisk? Frisk..." Toriel entered the living room. "The bath is ready. Please make use of it before the water turns cold."

"Oh, right. Thank you, Miss Toriel." Frisk stood up. "Flowey, what I was trying to say was: it doesn't have to go the same way as before. But let's finish this conversation later, okay? Don't leave before then."

And so he stared after Frisk as they walked away, and against his better judgment, he stayed.

The slight creak of the armchair, as well as the rustle of paper from behind him, told him that Toriel sat down to read a book. But he had no intention on checking.

He went on like the way he did before, sipping his soup and trying not to think of how she must be peeking up at him. When he finishes the soup, he should go. Take that first step. He could leave, telling himself that he'll return when they finish bathing, and then it would be easy to keep away.

But he didn't do that. Instead, he kept playing with his soup. Swirling his tongue in it and slurping the noodles.

"Flowey," said Toriel.

For a moment, he froze, his stem straightening like a rod. No. Stop. Ignore it. Pretend you didn't hear. He stared even harder at his soup.

"Flowey," said Toriel softly. "Is everything alright?"

"...yes."

"How have you been finding your stay with us?"

"It's alright..."

"Oh." Heavy cardboard shut against heavy paper. She must've closed her book. "That is good to know."

One of those inane small-talk questions, huh. Now that she filled that urge, will she stop?

"...have you and Frisk been talking about something?" asked Toriel.

"Yes."

"Oh. Forgive me for interrupting, then." The armchair creaked again. She was sitting on the edge, wasn't she?

Stop it already, Toriel. Lean back. Read your books. I know you already read them, but they'll still teach you more than I will.

"May I ask what the two of you were talking about?" asked Toriel.

"No," said Flowey.

"Okay then. I said this before, but I do not wish to force anything upon you, Flowey."

Goddamnit, didn't she get how awkward this conversation was? If Frisk was here, everything would have been easier; Frisk was both a social lubricant and a buffer. But now, without Frisk, what were they? Two strangers. That's what.

"Flowey," said Toriel, once more. "I understand if this is a sensitive topic for you. But I would like to inquire regarding your family."

Flowey had been getting dangerously close to finishing his cup. But he remained in his position, faced away from Toriel.

"I, uh, I never seen any other of your kind before, you see. I did not know there was such things as monsters who resemble golden flowers."

"Well, _now_ you know."

"Yes. I do. I am glad Frisk introduced you to me, even if it did not go well to begin with."

And it's _still_ not going well, you hag. Can't you see that?

"The thing is, I find it surprising I never met one of your kind before. Prior to moving to the Ruins, I held a public position in the monster communit—"

"You're the queen."

The chair groaned; Toriel must've slumped back.

"I..." said Toriel, "uh... you are right. Though technically, I am not the queen anymore. I _was_ the queen."

Okay, fine, whatever. Rub this broken family in deeper. As long as you do anything short of going into a rant, I'm not going to complain.

"Forgive me, Flowey. I should have realised I would not be able to hide this from you the way I hide this from Frisk. I do not know how you came to know the truth about me, but I would not investigate into that any further. Just... please, may I request something of you?"

He glanced over his shoulder at her, "yeah?"

"Never let Frisk know of this." Toriel was sitting with her legs tight together and her hands clasped on her lap. "The king, my ex-husband, would harm Frisk should he ever encounter them. Frisk must never know I am connected to such a person. They deserve to feel safe here."

"Fine." Flowey turned back around and stared at the soup again.

There was no need to tell her that Frisk already knew, or that they already forgiven Asgore. This way, at least Frisk will be spared from this line of questioning.

"Well, in any case," said Toriel. "I just find it odd. To have monsters that resemble golden flowers. To... uh... have golden flower monsters be locked down here with us, this whole time. I wish... I wish we knew earlier of your people. It is not good for the royal family to be ignorant of the populace."

Yeah, tell that to the spiders. You never cared to learn about _them_ before, have you.

"I... uh... I think I knew someone in particular who would have been happy to meet you," said Toriel.

"Chara?"

"...yes. Are you, uh, aware of their story?"

"Yes."

Oh boy, was Toriel wrong. Chara's last request wouldn't have been solved by the presence of talking golden flowers in the Underground. Chara's _real_ last request had nothing to do with golden flowers at all.

Not to mention, if Chara met him as he was now, they'd have hated him.

"Chara is the person who I, well..." the chair creaked again. Flowey stole a glance back to see her slouched and deflated. "Chara is the person who I, in my foolishness, ended up imposing on Frisk. I cannot overstate how grateful I am to you for pointing it out to me."

She was thanking him like this, for what? For trespassing in her house and writing three words and a name on a piece of paper?

"However, the crux of the matter is, I am concerned about your familial status, Flowey."

"I don't have anyone."

"That is what worries me." The chair groaned again; Toriel must've stood up. He still wouldn't turn around to look at her, but she was at his back. Toriel was the sort of person whose presence you could _feel_. "You are clearly a child. And yet when Frisk found you, you were alone. Sleeping by the flowebed on Chara's grave. And so I must ask you, where are your parents, little one?"

It was around that time when he finished his soup and his noodles. And was left staring at an empty cup. But it was still better than looking back at Toriel.

"Please, tell me, are they still in the picture?" She peeked from his side, but he snapped away. "Might they be looking for you?"

"No."

"Are they... uh..." Toriel's voice lowered to a whisper. "Are they still with us?"

"With us?.. oh... uh..." He should say something mean, like _'I wish they weren't,'_ but instead, he simply said "...they aren't dead."

"Did you run away from home?"

No point lying about this. "...yes."

"Listen, I am not going to ask why you did as you did, but please do not shun your family because of a bad day or a hurtful argument."

Hypocrite.

"They don't want me back, anyways," said Flowey. "They wouldn't."

"I find it very difficult to believe, Flowey. If I lost you or Frisk, I would be worried sick." Her hands rested on either side of him.

"They wouldn't want me back."

"...have they abandoned you, my child?"

Tears streamed down his cheeks. It was lucky she couldn't see it. How was he supposed to respond?

He couldn't tell her that technically, it was _him_ who abandoned _them_.

"I find it unthinkable, you see, for a parent to abandon their child. Though apparently rather common in human parenting. I struggle to believe, even for a second, that any monster would do such a thing to their child."

Yes, I know. You think _only_ humans can be bad parents. And you think _all_ humans are bad parents. I heard you rant about it, talking about how you wish you could take _all_ human kids away from their parents and give them to monster families. You're _that_ convinced you could save them all that way. You believe that bad parenting is something only humans are ever guilty of. You goddamn hypocrite. You're a walking, talking example of a how wrong you are.

"...But I am going to believe you on this, Flowey."

She pulled him towards her and rested her chin on his head. He flinched. Hugs were even weirder and more uncomfortable than remembered.

"I promise you, my child, that I will never abandon you."

Yeah, because you don't know what I'm really like. The truth is, everything you hate Asgore for, I did too, and _worse_.

He stayed frozen in place with her arms wrapped around him like a coiled snake, her forearms pressed against his throat. His gaze locked into the air below her chin as the seriousness of her statement sunk in. She meant every word of that, hadn't she? She intended to love him just as much as she loved Frisk. And this was despite that Frisk was perfect and he was _him_.

If Frisk was in his situation, loved and able to comprehend it, they'd be properly grateful. This is everything they yearned for. And it was wasted on _him_.

_He didn't deserve this._

"...Let me go," he said.

"Huh?" Toriel broke away from him. But even as she no longer hugged him, her hands still remained hovering by the sides of his stem.

"Let me go," he said again.

"Right, sorry." She withdrew entirely and sat back on her knees.

He gave her a dark look.

"Too heavy, too early, I suppose. Please forgive me," said Toriel. "I shall, uh, go back to reading my book. Once Frisk finishes their bath, it should be bedtime. The snail soup should keep you two warm and sleepy."

It's just like her, huh, to assign bedtime for kids his and Frisk's age. She must think that if she babies her children, she won't lose them.

And to think, that Asriel used to indulge in that. That he used to crawl into her arms every opportunity he got. That he used to need to be tucked in to sleep. That he'd climb into mom and dad's bed when he had nightmares.

It happened less after they taken Chara in. Partially because Asriel didn't want to seem like a little kid in front of his human friend. Partially because he felt guilty; Chara might never feel this comfortable with mom and dad.

Yet sometimes still, he couldn't help himself.

Even as a flower, in his first timeline, he tried to do that. Wriggle into a hug. Get tucked in. Snuggle into Toriel's embrace as she slept. But it wasn't the same. The urge never went away, only the relief did.

And now, even yearning for relief was wrong. If his parents hugged him now, even if he could feel it, they wouldn't be hugging their sweet little boy, their prince, their son. They would be hugging someone who killed them over and over again, and hid his sins in time. A royal brat who treated everyone around him as toys and slaughtered his own people. A son who, not two weeks ago, bragged to Frisk about how he wished his dad executed his mom.

_What was he doing here?_

With yet another creak of the armchair, he could tell Toriel sat back down. And then the sound of air and liquid being sucked in told him that she was sipping her own soup. Cardboard and paper thudded and rustled as she opened her book again.

And soon those sounds were all that filled the room. The fire crackling. The quiet croaks of her armchair as she rocked back and forth. Sipped soup and turned pages.

And he was left with his thoughts. Why? What was the source of these thoughts? The guilt of what he'd done was never this crippling before. Why did it flood his head now?

Was Frisk's presence causing this? That was the only answer. But then, a lot of it came from within him. Memories of this timeline and memories not of this timeline blended to broth. And then there was what it urged.

Stay with Frisk. Value them.

Stay away from Frisk. You are not worthy.

Stay with Frisk. Find out what happened back then.

Stay away from Frisk. You'll ruin everything.

Frisk this. Frisk that. Frisk. Frisk. Frisk. FriskFriskFrisk. What did they do last timeline that affected him like this? Why does he remember? Why did he forget?

"Miss Toriel?" Frisk's echoed voice rang down the corridor. "Where do I empty the bathtub?"

"No need to worry, my child!" said Toriel. "I shall dry it off when you finish with the bathroom. Have you put on clothes yet?"

"I'm nearly done, just... uh—" Frisk's voice lost its echoey trait. "Is it okay if I put on the robe rather than the pants?"

"Of course," said Toriel. Another stolen glance revealed her smiling. "Oh, it would look adorable on you~"

 

* * *

 

Toriel was unfortunately right. Frisk did, in fact, look good in a robe and a sweater.

The sweater was, thankfully, not anything like he and Chara would wear. It was purple, with blue stripes, like the inverse of the sweater Frisk fell with. And he doubted the robe was anything like Toriel tended to wear. Of course, he couldn't know if Frisk's robe had the Delta Rune on it, considering how the sweater covered it. But he doubted any tailors would put a Delta Rune on everyday clothing meant for children. Children are messy; dirtying the Emblem of Monsterkind is wrong.

He used to long for the day he'd graduate to wearing the Delta Rune. Now, heh... maybe if someone knitted him a scarf.

But yeah. Frisk did look good. The bath made their skin glow and their neatly-brushed hair shine. He made his best efforts not to stare as Toriel put them to bed that evening. But he couldn't quite manage it. He was still staring at them, hazy-eyed, as they stepped out of bed and sat by the fire beside him.

"Flowey," they said.

They smelled like Toriel's Lily-of-the-Valley soap...

"Huh?" He snapped awake. "Uh—"

"You okay? You've been quiet this evening."

"What— yeah! Yeah. I'm okay. It's just that, uh..." Come on, Flowey. Think. Change the subject. "Frisk... I have to ask you something."

"What is it, Flowey?"

"After the, uh, name incident, after I told you to stop pretending to be Chara. You... you thanked me, but then you just flipped around. And you went back to sleep. Why?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"I _mean_ , I could have been just saying, uh, _that_ , to make you drop your guard. So I could attack you, or do, uh, something like that. But you trusted me. You just trusted me. Like that. Like nothing."

"Ah, well, uh, I..." Frisk clasped the cloth of their robe. "...I have to admit. At the time, I didn't expect it to go this well. I thought that you—and Toriel, of course— would be really mad at me if you realised what I did. So when you didn't get mad, I guess... I guess I couldn't really believe it." Their eyes were misty.

"Oh..."

Frisk was wrong, again. He did get mad back then. He was— he _was_ ready to hurt them. He _wanted_ to hurt them. He planned it down to every detail.

But he _didn't_ , goddamnit. Why did he have to feel guilty for stuff he _didn't_ do, too?

And also, with Toriel, sure, he could understand their anxiety. But why did they care so much what he thought? Did they forget he was their enemy?

"...but in the end. You didn't get mad." Frisk ran their fingers across their eyes, rubbing them dry. "You— you and Toriel both— you were kind to me. You've shown me mercy."

"Oh..."

He stayed quiet for a moment to let them dry their tears. Only once they dried their eyes and blew their nose with their last tissue, did he continue.

"Frisk." He ignored the heat in his face and looked Frisk in the eye. "You owe me a _conversation_."

"Yes. You're right. I do. Wait, we need to make sure Toriel doesn't hear this—"

"She won't. The walls are thick and the door is heavy."

"I know. But, uh, there are, uh, gaps—" Frisk rushed towards their bed and pulled the blanket out before dragging it towards the door and stuffing the thick cloth beneath.

Flowey sent his roots over, weaving a thread around the blanket, pulling it tighter together and more evenly spread beneath the door. Frisk pulled their fingers away and watched the bottom of the door disappear under the vines.

And so the door was tight shut. Nothing could come in or out. Frisk was trapped here with him. Though really, trapping _Frisk_ wasn't the fair thing to do. If any of them was at the risk of running, it was him.

"We're going to have the _conversation_ now," said Flowey.

"Yes," said Frisk. "So, uh, what I started saying last time was... was... aahh—" they sneezed, again.

Flowey gave them a flat look and sent a vine to the side. He dragged a box of tissues to their side. Goddamnit, it might not have their fault this time, but didn't they delay this _conversation_ enough?

"...Thank you." They grabbed a tissue and blew their nose again. "Okay. So, what I said last time was: it doesn't have to go the same way it did before."

"You don't even know _how_ it went before. Idiot."

"I know _some_ of it, though. I, uh, know that you didn't start off the way you are now. I know that something happened to you. Something bad. Something that hurt you, and you—"

"You don't know that! How the hell would you know that?!"

"You told me that you started off wanting to do good. Right?"

"Yes. But that doesn't mean my backstory is _tragic_! It doesn't mean that— that I'm some poor lost soul for you to pity and coddle into goodness."

"You said that doing good hurt you, right?" Frisk's voice trembled. "You... you said that, uh, you watched everyone around you be happy, while you couldn't be happy yourself. And you were miserable, right? I... I can sympathise with that."

"It's not a good excuse. I didn't just stop doing good. I did a lot of terrible things, Frisk. Unforgivable things. If you knew, even _you_ would hate me."

"I know you did bad things, Flowey. But there's nothing you can tell me that would—"

"—I killed every monster in the Underground, Frisk! The Whimsuns you petted and fed from the palm of your hands? I took the fire from their lavender incenses and burned their entire village down. The Froggits? I drained their pool and watched all those cute tadpoles die. The rebel Migosp? I hanged it in front of its friends and family and taunted them about how I got rid of their _disappointment_..." and so he went on and on. Detailing the unique ways in which he had hurt and killed every subspecies of monster that lived in the Ruins as he watched Frisk's face became more and more stoney. "... and that's just the monsters of the Ruins, Frisk. Your other friends, your friends from last timeline? I... I did awful things to them too."

Frisk glowered at him, their face tight and their eyes empty. But he kept looking them in the eye.

Come on, Frisk. Tell me you hate me. Admit it! Tell me I'm despicable for what I did. Tell me you'll never forgive me.

Stop, for once, with all your niceties and all your politeness and your forced smiles. Stop trying to live this lie. Just stop. Just open your mouth and tell me what you really think!

Tell me you don't want anything to do with me anymore. Tell me to leave and never return. And I will and won't.

It's what I deserve.

"I know," said Frisk. "I'm not... unaware of the bad things you've done, Flowey. But..." Frisk closed their eyes and wrinkled their forehead tight, as though in pain, or trying not to cry. "...I forgive you."

"You're an idiot, you know that? I thought you loved these people. I thought you cared about them. How can you be so calm around me?!"

"I do love them. And I do care about them." Frisk had an oddly dark look in their eyes. "If you tried to do anything to hurt them. I would stop you. But I don't think you will."

"You don't know that!"

"That's true. I _can't_ know that. But I'm right, aren't I? If you wanted to go back to murdering and tormenting people, you could have done that. But you haven't."

"... because messing with you is more interesting."

"Yes. That was the reason you didn't do anything back then. But that's not it. Not anymore. You feel guilty, don't you? You want to change for the better. That's why we're having this conversation now."

"Oh..."

Frisk was right. He _did_ feel guilty. That's a good sign, isn't it?

But then again, did he deserve to _stop_ feeling guilty? Did he _deserve_ the opportunity to change for the better, after everything he did?

He closed his eyes and saw Frisk impaled by vines again.

"...Did I hurt you last timeline?" he asked.

"Huh? Well..."

"Be honest! Did I?"

"...It wasn't, uh, that bad."

How?! How could it not be bad? He knew his mindset. He knew what he'd do. He'd try, he _did_ try, to murder them and take their soul. And that's without counting his recurring memories, where he did _worse_.

"Did I ever, uh, use determination to... uh," his voice dropped a few decibels lower, "kill you, repeatedly? Even knowing you would remember it?"

"I..." Frisk clasped their robe and looked down, as though ashamed of _his_ wrongdoings, "yes... you have."

Why? Why did they forgive him?

"...how did you know?" asked Frisk.

"It's... it's weird... it's really weird," he said, "since... since, I don't know, since some time after you fell here, I've started having these, uh, strange visions. Dreams."

"Oh..."

"Am I seeing the _stuff_ that happened last timeline?"

"I... uh, I don't know. I don't know what's happening to you."

"Maybe it's like a, um, a black box."

"Black box?"

"You know, that thing on airplanes, that records events in case of a crash."

"Oh, you mean a flight recorder? You know about those?"

"Yeah!" He sprung up. "There was this book about aviation that fell into the Underground and, uh, well, Tsundereplanes have those too." ...better not to go into details on that. He already confessed to enough. Though judging by the look that flashed across Frisk's face, they might have had the idea. "...so, uh, I think that's what's happening to me. I mostly forgot about whatever happened back then, but not entirely. I think— I think some of it got buried, somewhere deep in my subconscious, and now it's surfacing up and I don't know why!"

"Oh..." Frisk's eyes remained on their lap, their bangs hiding their face.

"Is that what you meant when you said I'll find out _eventually_?"

"No, I didn't know this would happen."

"Then what _did_ you mean by it? Are you going to tell me?!"

"No. I'm sorry, Flowey, but I'm just... I'm not ready. i'm not ready to tell you," their eyes were watery when they raised their head to meet his. "...I promise you that you'll find out. But I'm not.... I'm not _strong_ enough to tell you."

And once again, Flowey wanted to push the issue. But once again, something in Frisk's eyes held him off. He had no reason to trust them on this; if they were the only person who knew what happened last timeline, and they wouldn't tell him, he had no way of learning on this, no matter how many teary-eyed promises they made. But he chose to believe them anyway.

If they really wanted to lie to him, they could have just made up events that happened last timeline. That would have closed the issue neatly. But instead, they made this dumb excuse to reassure him, and said it with such conviction that suggests they, themself, fell for it. He may as well wait to see where it goes.

"Back to the _conversation_ ," said Flowey, "...so you _know_ about all the bad stuff I did. You _lived_ it. And yet you still try to keep me around. Treat me like your friend, even though I'm not. Why?"

"...I, uh, realise it may be a cliche to say. But I think there's good in you. And I don't want to give up on it."

"That's a cliche of the worst kind! It's dumb and dreadful and dangerous. You goddamn idiot. You know what you remind me of? Those—those romance novel heroines who look at a bad boy and say _'I can change him'_ , no matter how awful he is!"

"That's the part where you're wrong, Flowey," the hard look returned to Frisk's eyes. "...I don't think I can change you."

So they finally admit it. Damn. Even the victory of winning couldn't offset the bitter pit in his stomach. He needed to leave soon. Leave this entire embarrassing situation behind him and forget Frisk ever existed.

"...I think you can change you," said Frisk.

Flowey's mind was numb. "What?"

"That's the thing about redemption, really. It isn't something you do to other people, it's a thing you do to yourself."

"Oh, for the love of— stop with the life wisdom already! If I was the sort of person who could save himself, then why didn't I do it yet?! Why did I fall in the first place?!"

"I... uh... I don't know. But I do know that if you wanted to, you could change for the better. And you do want to, don't you? Ultimately, no one can take charge of your fate, or your morality, except you."

"Why do you think I'm the sort of person who _can_ change? How do you know I won't end up falling again?"

"Because I saw you do it once before. The redemption—that is. Not the falling."

Damn it. So they _were_ willing to bring up last timeline, but only when they could use it against him.

"Fine then, _how_?" asked Flowey. "How can I even begin to make up for the suffering I've caused?"

"I think you should start by making everyone happy again," said Frisk.

"What?"

"...I suppose it's kind of self-serving for me to ask, actually. But that thing is, I don't plan to reset again. Not ever again. This is final one, so everything that happens now, barring major disaster, should stick. And... well.." Frisk looked down at their fidgeting fingers. "There's a lot of stuff I can't do from the Ruins. And that's a problem, because there are a lot of people outside the Ruins who need help."

"So you want me to go do your work for you, because of the limitations _you_ set for yourself."

"You don't have to do anything, you know. I just think you'll feel better about yourself if you do."

"...and also I'm the one who asked you for suggestions, huh..." still though. It sounded entirely too simplistic. "What exactly do you want me to do out there? What do you think made you _indispensable_ to these people?"

"I don't think I'm indispensable..." Frisk held their elbows, blushing. "If anything, you'll probably do a better job than I did, considering you have more experience... but um, what I had in mind really shouldn't be too difficult. It's stuff like, um, helping Papyrus get more friends, getting Monster Kid to meet Undyne, helping Nicecream Guy make it—"

"—you think it'll make up for it?! I've _murdered_ people, Frisk! Do you really think that organising meetings and buying nicecream will make up for it?!" He didn't realise it when he'd started yelling, only the ache in his throat indicated as much.

But Frisk remained steady and upright, their smile had faded, but their confidence had not. Like wind blowing over a mountain, his words did not sway them.

"And would shutting yourself away," they said softly, "and... and making yourself suffer, make up for it?"

He had no response. His mouth fell open, but no words came out.

"And besides," they continued, "I wasn't finished. There are plenty, more _meaningful_ things you could do out there. You could help the spider fundraiser, for one. But more importantly, you... I think that you could..." their voice dropped a few decibels, "you could stop the war."

"...you think you might leave someday after all?" he asked.

"No, but some other human who falls after me might, and they deserve to live peacefully too. And also, I... uh... I'm worried about the human souls. If you could, maybe, convince Asgore to free them—"

"—They aren't suffering or anything. You... uh... don't maintain consciousness as a disembodied soul unless you're absorbed by someone." He shifted in place. "...Don't ask me how I know that."

It was painful to dig for the memories that told him of that fact. But if it comforted Frisk, they deserved to know.

"Oh, thank goodness." Frisk pressed their hand to their mouth. "...And thank you. For telling me."

"Whatever."

They sat in silence for a bit, before Frisk went on with their words: "Well, uh, one really simple thing you could do. An easy thing. Something you could do first. Is give an umbrella to that statue in Waterfall."

"You mean that old pile of rubble no one cares about?"

"Well, _I_ care about it. I don't like thinking that it just _sits_ there, all alone, with the rain beating on it. Its solemn melody going unheard."

"Okay, fine. Resolving that is pretty easy, anyways."

Another silence fell upon them. And then he realised another dimension to their request.

"When I go out there, and make everyone happy again, it's going to be just like I told you. I'd be focusing... focusing on _their_ happiness... not being able to feel any of it myself. it'll be just like then, huh." He drooped his head. "...but this time, I'll deserve it, won't I. This is the punishment part of it..."

"No... no. That's, actually, the point I was trying to get at; it _doesn't_ have to go the same way as before."

Gentle fingers caressed his petals, nudging his head up to meet Frisk's eyes again.

"Last time you did good in the Underground, you were alone, right?" said Frisk. "You watched everyone else be happy with their family and friends. You watched each person find their place in the world, but you had none of that. Just a lonely little outsider, solving everyone else's problems, while keeping yours to yourself, right?"

"You don't know that," said Flowey.

"I was the same way, the first time around. I don't think I ever felt as... uh... miserable about it as you were. But I was alone. I wanted to help people. I wanted to help everyone solve their problems. But I also wanted to, at the end of it, leave and never come back."

He closed his eyes and saw a different Frisk. A quieter Frisk. A Frisk who stood frozen as Toriel hugged them. A Frisk who looked with wide eyes at Papyrus agreeing to a date. A Frisk who stood in the void, averting their gaze as he said to them something he could feel in his throat but not hear or comprehend.

"But then I realised that... somewhere along the way, I got people to care about me. I think," said Frisk. "And when I realised what I've been missing out on... I... uh... I don't know if I can go back." There was pain in their eyes. "And I think that's what you've been missing too, in those timelines, but not anymore.

"Flowey. You don't have to push yourself to make others happy if it makes you suffer. If you ever feel that what's going on out there is too much for you, you can always come back here." They pat their lap. "To us.

"This is your home now. This is where you belong."

"I... I guess..."

Silence fell over the two of them as Flowey lowered his eyes. He still couldn't see how Frisk's plan could work. How? How will doing good things change anything? Is it just because he was feeling guilty now?

And even if he did ever redeem himself. Even if he was worthy of being with Frisk and Toriel, could he ever belong with them? From where he was now, he could see no way for this discomfort to ever end.

And god, why was Frisk still sitting there? They said their piece. They'll get what they wanted. They should go back to bed. They shouldn't just sit there, leaning on their hands while clasping the fabric of their robe.

"I want to hug you," said Frisk.

"Huh?"

"Yeah... I'm sorry, I know you said no before, but—"

"Look, Frisk. You don't need to do that. I already said I'll do what you asked of me."  
  
"I don't think I _need_ to hug you." Frisk's fingers were even tighter around the wrinkles in the robe-fabric. "I just _want_ to."

"You realise that I won't enjoy it, right?" asked Flowey. "Hugging me like that would be for your benefit, not mine."

"I know. I know that wanting to hug you is selfish of me. You don't have to let me hug you unless you want it. I don't consider it one of those good acts you should start doing. I want to hug you because I want to hug you."

"...okay, fine. Whatever."

Frisk brightened up. "Really?"

"...It's not going to hurt me, or anything. It's just going to be kinda, uh, boring. So I guess it's not like there's something better to do right now."

"Thank you, Flowey!" They collected him into their arms. "Thank you so much!"

They were making such a big deal about it...

He rested his head on their shoulder as they pulled him in tighter. The scent of Lilly-of-the-Valley filled the air. Frisk cupped his sepals in their palm and smoothed over one of his petals between a finger and a thumb. Their heart thrummed against him.

Warmer and softer than a thick silk blanket. Gentler than morning dew rolling down his petals.

And like that, the two of them stayed for a while. And it was not exciting. It was not wondrous. It was not any different than the way he remembered hugs being. But at the same time, it was not boring, either.

When they let go, he rested his head on their lap. Their eyes widened for a moment before softening again, and once more, they brought their hand to his sepals and petals. Their fingers like little kisses to his plant skin. And like that, the two of them stayed a while longer.

"...Hey, Frisk?" he said.

"Hmm..?"

"...If you want to go back to flirting with me, that's fine."

"Wait, really?"

"I mean. I didn't feel _threatened_ by you flirting, or anything. There's nothing _you_ could say that would threaten _me_ , anyways. And besides, your flirting is kinda cute. It's funny. In a really pathetic way..."

Despite his most desperate efforts, he couldn't overlook how wide they grinned at his words. So he closed his eyes and basked in it instead.

Maybe it could work out after all.


End file.
